For when he appears,
My lungs fill with flowers 
And for a moment I 
Forget to breathe.



The slumberling caterpillar 
In my stomach
Performs metamorphosis
And flutters around
Trying to break free.



The rivers named veins
Fill and rush to my chest,
To my head and
I forget to think.



For when he smiles,
His eyes come alive,
And I wonder
Does he thinks of me this way.

Dark was the night in the hour that you left me
I had no idea to bid you a farewell
And in the night that you had left me
I did not know the essence that you had claimed
And on that night my lungs were clear and free of mildew
But at the break of dawn, my heart was not the same.

They said to buy local so I tried to buy Dave Cull’s lung.
But he wouldn’t sell it.
They said to buy local,
So I tried to buy Michael Woodhouse’ heart,
But it was out of stock.
The shop girl told me she would check out the back.
They said to buy local so I tried to buy Lee Vandervis’ hands,
He said he’d sell them to me but I tried them out and they had no grip.
The said to buy local so I tried to buy Harlene Haynes nose,
But it was already in something else.
(she told me it was malicious of me to ask and threatened me with defamation)
They said to buy local so I tried to buy the Highlanders cauliflower ears,
so I’d have enough florets for a salad,
But it turned out they weren’t organic, so I left it.
They said to buy local so I tried
They said to buy local so I tried
They said to buy local so I tried
And I tried
And I tried
And I tried

They said to buy local
-but between the dilapidated hospital and the drafty-damp flats there were no good organs to purchase.

A thousand paper cuts
to hollow lungs- a void
mass loss of blood to blue
like blue ***** cricketing through
the vast red ocean

-Kaya

The start (of) /
a braid or a rope /
is nothing (at the beginning of this) /
it is only the idea stemming /
from a sapling or a seed to become /
a tree /
reality /
what we touch, see, and wish to be /
Ancient beings can feel how they are not free /
I notice this is my mother’s face /
as I lead her to the restroom /
so near, too far for her /
the years count with her /
the (counted) years count the steps to the toilet /
and consider just holding it /
because the pain of walking so clearly outweighs /
the pain of holding your *** after birthing 3 children /
one of them dead /
okay, birthing two children /
I was cut from my mother /
Regardless, /
maybe if you cut out the lungs /
things would cease to be /
chaotic like the outreach /
reaching out a hand /
praying she’ll find me /
because I’ve gone too far and can’t rewind //////

maybe if you remove my lungs…. /
I could stop focusing on my breathing /
give you all of my love /
show you I am not worthy /
of that admiration leaking from your ears //////

don’t be jealous of me

my lungs dive deep
into the marrow
of your embrace

beneath the waves
they find
your heart

please don't
worship me
into ascension

I wouldn't bare
to be your
Aztec sun god