sing me swing me
into the scoop of
your mouthed mountains
gaping
tongue draping
velveteen and plush
and pulse pulse pulse
the throb of the birdsong
canoes me away
through this mire
of abundance.

my tooth
aches deeper
than the cave
we climbed into
that day
after the day
with the lilacs and
the missing scotch
and the tulip bulbs.

my skin slimyslick like a crocodile heavy like layers and layers
of fish scales. maybe i'll just type myself away into skeletal infinity.

because you know i've heard of the peace that descends when your bones start to rot is not unlike the pleasurable sensation of meditating on warm concrete.

i've heard that when your teeth fall out you no longer have to bother with chewing and that when your feet fall off you no longer have to bother with walking

and don't you hope when you die --
when you honest to god die die die
(it's impossible to imagine to, don't even try)--
don't you hope that you'll just get to float around
in an infinite gravity machine and never bother again?