with a calm, coma between my breathes,
i hope you can see through my nerves.
thirty seven printed out with floral
ballerinas dancing across
this opaque black ocean on my sky;
blades of fear and
loathing. growing veins out of
darkened yarn that crows themselves
wheeled together for our dream.
dormant buttered flies opening
their courage as the violet sunrises claim
their empty cocoons,
filled with voided rainbows
and distant thunderstorms.
my freckles are fading
into wrinkles are
fading into scars
are fading into porcelain
cells
are
floating free.
