We do not have enough hands for all these pages. Just
A slow burn, heavy flame.
Go to sleep, the water will be warm soon. With irresponsible amounts of
Is this literature? What if I turn the lights off?
Vestigial organs, dress-eating black. A profound experience of
Are you awake yet? In the middle panel
This time, with feeling. By any measure, this winter will be
A machine for unseeing. Your silent era.
Open your eyes. No, not those ones. Just
Elbows bent to simulate eating. And that’s
Wake up, it’s time to begin forgetting.
Can you see my wildness? What if I turn the lights off?
Vestigial burn, eye-eating black. We do not have enough
And that’s love. An inadequate collection of sighs
Achieve neutral buoyancy with arms crossed. The ideal sky is
Wake up, it’s time to begin holding on. We are not
The face I came here wearing. By any measure, this winter will be
A sweep of ember in your father’s sky.
Open your eyes. This time, with feeling.
Your blue period. A work in conclusion.
And that’s love.
Are you awake yet?
What if I turn the lights off?
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