The tree from Life of Pi lives inside my stomach. It has planted its roots deep within my intestines, growing tall and lean, up through acidic oceans and stopping with branches wound around my ribcage.
I fall asleep inside limbs, cradled above the ground. It's safest at night. And when I thirst for the juice of some sweet fruit, I unwrap a balled up green veiny thing, only to find the seed is a human tooth. 32 in all. A tree that eats living things and saves the waste.
Dread is a ballerina that leaps across the stage, landing on tip-toe, in tip-top shape. Her hair is pulled up in a bun high on her head, fingers nimble, drumming lightly to the beat.
Football shaped eyes run touch downs across your body all day long. Everything fits perfectly, and I still find something wrong. I could sleep my life away, but I guess you'd call that death. Ending is impossible with fate.