Nectar-flavoured Dental Floss/Fragrant Contour Maps/The Lighthouse Keeper’s Bad Acid Trip/Accusatory Tree/Edamame-filled Balloons

Accusatory Tree
How would it feel to be stuck in one place throughout your life and only be allowed to spectate and not participate? To be alone, grey, barren and lifeless in the cold. To only occupy space and appear dry and brittle. To sound and seem reluctant all the time. To experience a lack of control. To have your dignity stripped by lesser organisms. To be renounced by the very things you nurtured, to know that you are no longer favored as a habitat. How does it feel to lose all your leaves? How cold is the wind that brushes your scars? And snow. And blizzards.
• •

Fragrant Contour Maps
White pills in a crooked line. The drunks are struggling to sleep. Chest growing heavy, conscience overflowing from the nostrils. There is too much space between dreams. It does not matter if you have experienced them already, there is no bargaining. Thoughts cause perspiration. Words- bilge. The clock is lagging behind. 8-note Kalimbas are easy to play but difficult to tune; so are love and devotion. Everything is beautiful if one knows what to hide.
• •

Edamame-filled Balloons
Bodies move wondrously when the conscience is diluted. Luna comes home drunk every night and asks for more. Luna takes takes takes. Gives too. But takes mostly. Luna is a drama queen. Bitch makes shit outa nothing.
Luna likes lamps, silly music- the soft kind, hourglasses, the tasteless of her skin. That kid who placed his palm over her heels on a cold Friday, or Saturday maybe. She’d swallowed one too many that day. Luna says her memory is incoherent. She says it’s because of love. I think so too.
Luna smears her lipstick. Luna twitched an awful lot, the other day. Must be her crazy dreams. She almost fell off the bed. All that cider, veins, notes, mirrors, clocks, whole holes, horse smell and boots purchased from goodwill.
• •

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Bad Acid Trip
New tastes. My body twists in impossible ways. Little streaks of brights ebbs; and the sound comes out of you. My fingertips swim through this waste of space.
Death, the one thing that will always keep us together and whole. There is a ghost inside of me. It stands alone but breathes. Nothing longs for it; still it moves causing icky rhythms to flow down my spine. The kind that leave one quivering.
Your mouth keeps me from the depth of your eyes. I know I have wronged you. Introspection only causes repression. Repression leads to implosion. For all the shit we put each other through, the sun will still shine and keep you warm. I like the rain more.
• •

Nectar-flavoured Dental Floss
You laugh. Because it hurts to smile. Because there is nothing left of you but semen and placenta. Because you have no front teeth. You laugh because you are happy; because that’s how you always feel when with me. You can’t fucking see me letting you down; ‘cause then I’d let myself down. That’s why you laugh, because I’d promised your father and mother and sisters and brothers and friends and suitors that I’d keep you happy. You laugh because you are my anger; because you save my soul. Even through your tears, you laugh. Your hair is letting go, still you fucking laugh. You realize that your halo is missing and I can no longer shield you; you laugh still.  For once, that laughter hurts me. I never thought it would.
• •



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