conviction blanket


night animals dying of boredom

month of july

half-melted sex-doll baby names

shaving all her hair off because why not

nothing is real

the texture of peach skin under one's teeth

i will tell anything about her life

the nude skin of large, accessible bodies of water won't tell

their bones have informed me

their bones have formed in me

out of the innocent few

the ocean in montreal


there is an ocean in montreal

where our shivering bodies walk the plank

without falling off the other end forevermore

where intact still, the same burning cloud

brings up the rear

and galaxies of feelings bumping

and dancing hasten then delay

the unexpected collapse

like an impending natural disaster in which

the performer

tells us all their secrets in an extremely


indeterminate pause

untangling that part of the anatomy where


incoherent with my type of speech

document its beauty

and auditory ability

before disappearing into the earth

decorating with stickers


mismanaging sadness

six robins fly out of the hood of a stalled car

everything is morbidly open, steams into a sunset


until now posers with satanic symbols on them


the inevitable suffering


other siblings: shortcomings, loss

disappeared into the sun, the sea, the woods, dreams

sometimes into obscure past lives

reverse-searching robins in the hedges

and ripping my faces off

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