early: because even lovers can't sleep.

there's a bitter taste of affinity to waking before the dawn has had it's chance to spill. you know you've been rejected because you have no shame in wailing out the pain. body like a heavy tank of polluted waste. energy like rotten milk clogged throughout your bones.

you moan. you moan hoping that your wretched limbs will take pleasure in the pain of assaulted stillness, although you are certain that even those screeching wings can't hear you. your own ears won't offer you tight grace.

your glands clamp up like a mocking bud. soft and hot, one drop from yielding. fingers now begin to flatten as you enjoy the skepticism of coil.

you sit there like a fool on jittery twigs, pants shamefully pulled down, hands too drunk to relieve your shame. one shoe flips open, slapping itself on the ground. revealed now is your stubby purple toe, bruised toenail grown out as if carnivals nag for entertainment.

you wear your hats too large. you keep your anxiety too cold.

hallucinatory fragments.

He pulled up towards me like a foreign dog. His protruding lower lip was duck-billed, too strange to suck. I pushed him away. Although he wanted all, I knew it wasn't his.

If muddy rivers had reflections, his white skin would be stained dull in the loftiness of its own bathwater. Speckled and absorbed into the surface, his battle marks left my face retracting over itself. In defense, my glance repeatedly resisted, crouching away from this suddenly staged reality.

Reminiscences of youth clawed at me like a bitter cat. Daring me. Awkwardly whirling fatal flirtations around my head.

the ending loom.

It's like going back to when we wore our mothers shoes, clanking around to hear the chimes of our souls take beat against the crystal ground. China sets bottled in boxes licked with tape, peeling to be more than just ourselves.

Without warning to lift up our cups hot water pours over itself, leaving clumpy wet sugar sprawled out against the grids of our maps. Suddenly, as if everything wasn't really anything, we're taken. The lust for wings is surrendered. Like shapes that are torn by the sharp side of the moon we realize that even we can't be more than just stars. And not even the type that are drooled over by astronomers. As numbered bodies we will give off sapless balm, raped, under the sunset of our age.

Fish Dreams.

You were hypnotized by the lobsters. I seemed to have remembered them stuck in that very same place years ago, trudging back and forth in their 2 ½ foot long tank. On top of this tank, that’s where I rested, a catfish swimming underneath me like a shark with false whiskers. Aware of its bewitching posture, its shiny head peeped from out of the water, swaying like a snake under charm. Our eyes rallied in consciousness of the other and held glance for what seemed like both the longest and shortest seconds of my life.

It was a surface nightmare. Like a wave cascading down the plummet of candy dreams packed with tiny yellow big bowl fishes.

Laying on top of the glass I could feel the bitter burden of my assailants situation. The restlessness of waiting marked in the ripened luster of its scales.

Moments before my hazardous attack you told me to look at the lobsters. Your body on the floor resting below my height. I lowered myself like a mermaid, only to witness their frantic antennas searching for life in the murky abyss.

As if I were slapping violently against wooden planks, a convulsion of cannibalistic fright sliced through my frame. Peeling away from my catnap, I could still feel the sensation of my tiny legs rapidly echoing the movements of my attackers fins.