some nights i dream my blood is butter-

allow me to clarify.

i am haunted by visions of being eaten.

i am haunted by the enjoyment of visions of being eaten.

i am haunted by poetry.

when i sit with god he tells me he will eat me.

i am ambrosia.

i let my blood for the good of the nation.

i let my words for the good of my ego.

i have had the same wallet for seven years.

this morning i saw a hot air balloon-

closely followed by a regular balloon

floating in the weak, watery first light.

 

this pillow-soft death will be the end of me.