from Junk

Wherever we go, needs feed and I find it harder and harder to believe benevolence is the thing Thousands of Yazidi girls missing and plastic fills the ocean’s mouth and the cursive of yr name still occupies the canopy of my throat Fuel, the under- pinning What fires your gd engine Rigor, mortis Cold as unmoving or unmoved The opposite of music Warm in the cold universe Molten, forming A rock becoming magma becoming lava becoming land Land, the trauma of lava Lava the lamp of the ancestors and later a cheeky find in the Junk shop and rising in our living room Livin groom Just bc nothing cares doesn’t mean it lacks meaning What’s the point of curiosity but a train rolling past the spot where the Donner Party feasted n then go on a four hour Wikipedia downward spiral I’m the closest thing to a mime parade I whisper, home late tiptoeing down the creaky hallway tryin not to wake my roommates Nice chicken parm, sluts, I say to my fingers at lunch Dissociation is evacuating from the inside I just know we’ll have a good time