i only look good in half-light
with a cup of motivation
and music scratching in the tips of my ears
bare
no ill-fitting clothes
the ill-fitting skin is enough
just the meat suit and tight shadows
curling up my legs and over my arms,
twitching as they breathe down my neck,
it’s an incorporeal kind of feeling
this is a half-living you see,
the most effective coping method, i’ve found.
shut off half your brain and turn out all the lights
easier for the shadows to find you then
sit back
relax
let the phonograph sing you to a three-quarter dreamland where only the soft satin tendrils of sound stroke the insides of your earlobes and press themselves into your palms

fall back