eyes and the torso of
my blindness has woken.
waterfall desks lubricated
with dehydration and
blood pressures we no
longer can feel.
i was never good enough
for fire and i am further
than most of our
dreams. terminal plaque
covered with solids of
our hearts beating,
breaking slow.
we are here to prescribe
each other into
the other. yet, we
are flavored
vampires accustomed
to the dying days.
we are just a lisp in
the ocean wave;
a soul found by the
little smiles of kindergarten
sand.
