Bone rust and jigsawed tendons greeting their recently-made friend. The diffusion of pepper-white pills, transmuted into scavenged afternoons. Stealing some loneliness to exhale in peace. The fleshy grinding of insistence against the cold edges of aging. Flecks of joy oozing out of rent seams. Head radio insists the same song, stuck on repeat, for the rest of your life. Playfully slapping a face pierced with non-compliance. In my dreams, I watch charred, aging women shop for vanity in a wig store. And then retreat into a comatose obscurity.

2:36 p.m. - 2023-01-12