a mile a millisecond

(dust, you are)

all those joints and jager bombs
earsplitting tracks, rattling teeth in the car
playing death games with steering wheels,
with genitals, and gashes for mouths:

they’ll do fuck all to postpone inevitables
disintegrations of brain cell constructions
tight woven tapestries of tales we told
under purple smoke and deep dawn–

the morning you fell asleep
the night she was locked out and we laughed

the day you taught me
even skin to skin can be chasms apart.

i learned lightning arcing across my flesh
doesn’t always signify serendipital synaptic firings;
i learned that give is a whole lot easier than take.

those weeks are unwinding across my internal organs
and hanging lint-littered down my ribs in ribbons

(yes, darling, we’re losing it.)

one of these days you’ll be nothing more
than the smoke from that last shared cigarette
and a memory burning pain in my cunt
that made it painful to piss a day later

(and to dust you shall return)

(i can’t forget.)


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