pony express - 03

bitter melon, yellow grass laid flat,

i dreamt of you the other day. we had dinner and a show and you shot the man who very openly, very loudly talked about killing us. we traveled with a talking cat whom i terrorized with its mummified brethren. i woke up sick.

seems like there's no end to the mirror's reflections. unrecognition in each silver countenance, reddening, blooming, falling apart. we are several stargazes away from the dam bursting open and razing the town with its filthy, shitty floodwaters. but our faces are nowhere to be seen.

sand spores and your lilting laughter i grasp onto, hold on for dear life. digging my nails in deep enough to draw blood because i like the mess. to make you feel that violence - feel it, fear it, again and again. bludgeoning eye sockets, heels of my boots.

the things we built together, things we have and own to pieces. fabric scraps drenched in mud (my skirt soaked in marsh-wine). watered-down whiskey, impotent rotgut: the treasures no sorrowed sorry sap would dare to swipe. but i like my liquor hard and fast. can i count on you to deliver?

your hands roaming fur patting down haunches avowing good boy. my imagining to be your lockdown loyal dog by your side caged metal muzzle submitting praise me, hold me, forgive me.

think about me your all-american girl even when i can't be.

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