On average a human will spend up to two weeks kissing in their lifetime;
Let’s calculate the time spent on rolling wheels,
The time it takes for the ache of a spider bite to bloom inward
A dissipation of flesh you cherish like a badge of disappearance, like flight.
Making caverns that engulf anyone, regardless. (But especially you.)
And you are always a sedentary being, propelled and thinking
of kissing someone with no face. And dreaming of a new landscape that always unfolds as the same
body, already mapped out; impossible.
How many months, on average,
spent inventing a lover?
And how many lovers have stretched you out until your limbs grew too long and ceased to support
Here streets stretch out a glittering ash tray and I walk around thinking of being in my head
And missing raw lungs, missing smoke
The freedom to inflict small pains
The knowledge that numbing selectively
Is a survival tactic I have applied,
Imagination abused and dulling this sensation.
I keep inventing you.
You are a story,
that I read with compulsion.
Can’t bring my hands near to the glassy eyed doe. Two dead ones in the day, downy tufts of fur blanketing the trail 10 feet from the carcass. Step onto the nest, a soft white belly. Something motherly and soporific. The sky pinkens; rain pools in the hollow made by the uprooted oak. A new born fawn is bubble gum stuck to the pearly ribcage. A man scavenges beside me for new centaur parts, snaps off the hooves.
At night I hear rustling made by the silver hands of the maiden that I’ve cut out from old biology text books and newspapers. She appears by my bed side, wan and pale visage frozen as I’ve fated it, and casts long shadows against the wall.