my trinket fell-
it rained all night on distorted cacti,
i had just an aeroplane to wish on
even stars have left these distemper skies.
it will be a new month tomorrow,
i find brine silting my overripe lips
and his cigarette mouth is aneamic,
i smell of ash-
songs have shattered the lymphatic moon.
creeping towards twenty-one-
hormones dip, a
shot of rainy cold
turbidity marks radium hours
lips rough with rust
i rush to hide behind
as vulnerable as a broken tear