atavistic
the stars & i are plasma-built – if this
is mediomania, i am rose-guts &
gladiolas. here are my rites, my rings of
labradorite. my skin is from the triassic
period. look at this rosetta speech
pantomiming my forearms. sleep isn’t
getting any easier at all. please come
find me: place me in a game of pursuit. let me click
around this mansion & unlock all
its wine drooling from the cellar – i taste
& i know i must be the door. look to
the back of my throat like
a keyhole. dig for the key. the earth
rejects its flora perennially & we chew it
from our teacups. this is how all of us
can survive.