#096

i always wanted you to catch fire.

everytime i dangle on a precipice, tongue lolling out (the weight, a ferric aftertaste): i know

my spine is merely a deciduous laugh. somebody remembers you holding a different set of hands in the rain. an expression of abandonment. i remember exploding

so i let you condense vacuum on my skin

this chill is euphoria.

talk to me of neurotransmitters. magnetic fields. put your hand flat on my sternum. yes, on that very bone between my breasts. the one that makes me a bird. count the moles. forget that i can breath. there are no maps to me.

instead ants march sacrilegious in a cross. there are umbras. there are dainty pearl moths. there is you without me plus me without you. talks of vaccination (i call this a disease now)

i do not know if coherence can suffice:

i want you past those magnetic fields. past your hand motionless on my sternum. i want you light-years beneath the surface of me. a cataclysm. come here.

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4 thoughts on “#096

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