1679 c/o Taylor Retzios

the sky is unusually bright tonight
and i don’t know why i’m having trouble breathing,
but by morning
we will have given up all of our
material possessions

light fades,
heat dies,
lonely anchors with no ships to fasten

for now i cannot tell
whether this heat is emanating from
inside or outside
of me

my skin is slippery like baby oil and
my room smells like bathwater
littered with water bottles and books i read five years ago

positioned facing west looking in a tunnel
my body is a mass of flesh and slime and intestines with a bloated heart and
          weeping kidneys
shooting brain zaps dissociation pounding firing ripping
looking at 36-month old pictures of you
yields the same sensation as suffocating myself with a pillow

at any given moment some(one/thing) is dying
and tonight i know this to be true
because everything i know is
being cremated
and i seemed to have misplaced
everyone i know