di. two twos are no more four. the streets erupt in blasts of atrocious fluorescence. i suck in a sackful of air. and the atmosphere is a little green woman with lung cancer. methyl. your mouth tastes something like like. the rain scavenges upwards in brittle lines. everything is Plasticine. she sits hunched, coughs up phlegm. thunderbirds will come home soon. i will croon to you. your thigh taut against mine. the inside of me is no more the inside of me. even before the big bang, i knew. galaxies are crayoned with lipstick. gutters brim. my spine is riveted desire. tryptamine. i forget my name, watch you collapse. a bird beats under your skin. i want to eat your heart out. the little green woman is ash. her eyes are garnets seething with life.
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