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Mar 2021
you ***** attention then slice off my foot fingers and press my toe prints into bile stains that will eventually be discovered. they will think i tiptoed disaster. we read and clean and leave corpses for the carpenters. there is a box for world-building and a box for world-ending. when i put my head in either, i come out wearing leeches named Charlie. we pour our gasoline stores in cardboard that will soak until the sun gets hungry and swallows all roads to dead families. come out in your best dress for me to slit it to match. let’s feign surprise when we unearth the bed bug hive as if meeting for the first and only time. i lick up the slug trails mid-air, mid-sentence. the bee frenzies about mowed and cut pollen producers.
Written by
mothwasher
42
 
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