the paleontologist

quiet apocalypse
of the circulatory, respiratory and nervousness

head detaches like lizard tails
and then lamenting eye

your soil as brown as iris

and your voice becomes fossil fuel
your eyes become petrified forests

your body
poised in sediment

i am with you

and i am only able to study

my brain creates the hyper-real
the suggested pulse

like trilobite meat or archaeopteryx marrow or bleeding gallimimus

and it feels so impossible
like there are eons
between us