I am searching for the type of room that would change my life if I lived there, you know the one.
there was the asteroid and kids old as the cascades,
& the bottle-necked shore so full of undiscovered fish
we ate ourselves into a new species.
“Bandeau,” I type into the Tumblr search bar. The results load like a quilt of skin.
Jordan lit a post-coital cigarette and contemplatively stared at the ceiling.
“My ex was a Nazi,” he said.
Most planets are probably so
much quieter than ours.
The room smelled like milk and sweat. I only got up for a few reasons; to crack a window, to change a diaper, to eat, and occasionally, to go for a walk.
I'm waiting for influenza in Virginia. Or the taste of something metal.
It makes sense to me that what Britney Spears wants to fill her body with, what she wants to break apart with her teeth and let dissolve onto her tongue is sickeningly sweet, beautifully packaged things, meant to enjoy, enjoy, enjoy.