eqlrytes

Imagine if bugs didn't skip leg day. They could carry cities on their backs. Push continents together. Stacking tectonic plates like a juice head, on chest day.

Something simmered on the stove- I turned it down for he was there, in the half-light by the door; I think it was water for tea. The air went thick and fathom blue- there were fingers in dark curls. There was wet and bubbling warm; there was bread with butter for tea. He grew like mystery, like heavy weather. I drank him like hope, he left pearls on my lips. There were fingers in dark curls. I think it was water for tea.

I will not go out Hard or bloody As so many I know Have done I will not wake up On the inside No bars To open my eyes I will not stand still In waiting I will experience life As my grandparents did The last I knew To have done it right Around a table With Grandbabies at their feet So this is a promise I make to myself One I sincerely hope To keep To be the glue That holds us together A promise Of no release

hell must be like this. flies licking ecstasy from blood oases. laying their eggs in tiny living rooms. the desert is a sprawling hibernation. a naked, arid body which never ends. the reptile's silent condemnation. stretching skin, an ocean of hair. she licks him and he begins to rise. red and parched, crying for star-milk. stolen bullets, barrelful of whispers. severity punctuates a dead clock-face. bristles puncture skin, eyes overflow. sad song, the mad hint of a lullaby. patient vultures circle high overhead. they take pieces of the sun as they pass. somewhere a cave echoes things unsaid. water hides in the bellies of drea

Imagine if bugs didn't skip leg day. They could carry cities on their backs. Push continents together. Stacking tectonic plates like a juice head, on chest day.