I’m starting to believe
          the light-green luna
       moth I saw might’ve been
                a pretty glitch
             in this buttoned-up matrix

                    a        flashy sign…

      Who knows, who knows
                I’ve got a thousand things
                            in mind &
           Yes, dear, you’ve got the evidence:
                  [It’s been a hell of a week]

            I swear I’ve ripped my skin
                                            to shreds
                   |feels like an old pastime
                        has arrived for a few

                              I never got a memo
                       then again I never checked
                            the fucked up schedule

        & now I’m on the hunt
                               again》for    you


the profane

It’s the caffeine
    and the nicotine
          The sedatives
                & the smell of propane
                           keeping me still
               irritatingly awake
I need a b re a k from existence
            from hearing |my family| in pain
            gluttony indeed swills liquid octane

            I can’t bear this…
             I may be physically absent
           but my spirit is there
                for some, that’s more
                     than they’ll ever again receive
         [like I never was here to begin with]



& I bleed cerulean from the vein
                       It’s true
Royal purple/ indigo too
Since my flesh rarely sees
                      the sun,
               but    flourishes under a black moon
And it’s sick, and I’m sick
                    [Just a genetically engineered tool]

This pale lily shimmer is finely ground
                      & I know if I was ever crowned
                             I’d be an undead Queen
                 not unlike Persephone
                       A mock Diana
                               [For her Empathy]
                     A deranged Hera
         for her jealousy…

And Zeus
        livor mortis blue
           would’ve never made a fucking sound


Freeze Frame

With one bare arm cuffed to the bed [post]
I say,
‘we’ll leave those left
                             (-over)s in the trash,
take a quick
snap/shot’ *blast

tip of the tongue casually |outlines|
deftly defined
Valkyrie runes
how rivals must warily eye & surprise you

Impishly I press on unrestrained
All-clear linear thought defied
As the snap shows redglossed lips & tongue
               teeth           & open veins



  a myriad of dreams
so vivid
and entirely alive
one wakes with supposition

burdensome questioning to the meaning
                          interrogation  featherlight

I scrub my skin raw
just to get your scent off

&burrow inside what I imagine
life may be without



Zero Hour

Insects crawl along your inner ear
& wreaking havoc on your thinsoulskin
no light, no gratification

No mood

No mood

(take those to bed with you)

Empty fractals of jetset night on zero hours
Replacing/////tearfully shed the practice
streaks glow alight on jumpstart showers
(? I’¿]

Sense is no bother when
there’s a lack of eager sensation then
_am I used to it/n


Am I *e)motionless ?