Girls like getting scattered in the library in the heat wave where you can’t check out any books

Who me?

Swallows of thick air, limbs wave through time gel, and I’m sitting. You know what they say about beautiful sunsets, there’s dread everywhere, but only if you look too hard, so don’t look too hard?

Sure. My hands don’t bleed for you anymore. The tomatoes all melt before they get ripe, order me a side of ice, between dreams you can taste god so deep, remember? at the bottom of a clock words pool before language, unwatched light never waves, drink your bedside worlds, biting in reverse, trying so hard to be a good.

When too much fun drips at your teeth, crouch and flip to 104 degrees, swimming in a parked car, wanting it all to talk to you, premonitory palms pressed against windows foggy with dirt rain. Whole loops, beaded bows, shower me in fragments of good time, it’s love hour! Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for?

I keep forgetting. This horizon tastes like purple, gorgeous, when the lips of every glass merge together, sip me gently, know me harder, beyond the body floats an automatic self.

A life-sized grate shreds me to wholeness heaped on the ground, sprinkle the dust on every breakfast, printed swings, maps where they razed over there, so over there, your eyes are closed, your tongue is cut, it hurts to realize your world.

Sometimes you rearrange, sometimes you get it wrong. So many holes bleed at once, tainted ghosts lock your door, call through the mask, power is evil at the throat and, ah. You’re in time. There’s history, I get scared, the sky loves, don’t tell me, is that right, pulse on.