your words are a bonnet of pins, embrace of an iron maiden feeling like home; you hate every second, but what we have goes beyond that. bamboo splinters under nails, a wizard’s daughter, in the heart of a storm, hair stuck to black honey lipgloss; glittery eyeshadow rubs off all over me, tiny specks of holographic brilliance winking in the merciless overhead light, and I would feel like a star about to combust, but no flame can exist in the vast cold of nothing hugging our furball of a planet tightly. soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of bloodied strings, gasping for air, a fish in a sea vortex of uncountable fish, rainbow scales on cheap stick-on marble kitchen tiles; take your ear to the glass shards, do you think champagne purrs when bubbles explode? bathing the world in an inland ocean of your glassy eyes. when a stare is fixated once and forever, isn’t it love? ribbons and iceboxes, a wheel of fortune making a full turn before the walls begin to whisper, before the bus stop tilts, before there’s one more question in the “no bag” — “by card” sequence; soap smelling like irises and salt. your tears don’t matter in the great scheme of things, in fact, nobody does; have you noticed spring evenings are getting shorter? could Betelgeuse really be dead? a light extinguished centuries ago, yet so far off every night we bask in it, red twinkle dancing against the blue. isn’t it both beautiful and sad, in a good way? I wish you still talked to me, but I know you so well, I can talk for you sometimes, I swear, it’s the best thing after white wine and sour cream and onion chips, really. “could be dead, could be far from it” hey, kitty, kitty… why am I the only one talking? #mixedwriting