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Jan 2017
i haven't slept in a couple of days so
i've been seeing constellations in every face
a vicious, viscous quietness creeping into every hollow space.
celestial bodies collide in my veins: hemoglobin and
mangoes and a chest gently torn open by
the gravity that pulls me through. i've
climbed trees on planets i've never been to,
dined on cosmic lychee and other starry fruits.
i met an extraterrestrial the last time i looked
at my reflection, but my eyes carry jupiter
in times of abjectionβ€”i don't believe i'll see her again
so i'll ignore my pretty mouth, trace the crop circles on my palms
instead. kubla khan built a pleasure dome from sound
while i supped on the sun, we hung around
and drank honey from a violin
while jesus christ and shakyamuni sang 'kashmir' by led zeppelin.
i lived outside the walls of clocks, and when i inhaled time
i choked (the anthropic principle is kind of a joke). finally, i
fell asleep when we all coalesced with the andromeda galaxy
because the universe is a dreamscape of human anatomy.
twelve caesuras
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twelve caesuras  suicide notes, love poems
(suicide notes, love poems)   
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