Mirror Meteor

Pixie-dust infusion shoots steady shock through incline— is that crooked or slyster meat tong, grabbing hold of night so as not to pulse so bright past outcome Pardon the excess—it’s a point to make that out of all this dirt comes glass or shiny sheen meant to gloss over rough spots—let’s moan and breathe At one time, so that anything shattered will sound pretty I need to show how I love—sound and vision if I sing and move to what I hear and feel, just for you Well, let’s see if we can match our limbs to the credible—or maybe the possible let’s play again, so that you know what you’re in for, when you save your last dance for glass How clutterdust of me— and here’s where I lose my head over a star system, a horny section ten thousand years older than me