tachinidae

time-travel 
back to the living room 
back to when my beer was full 

to parry the velvet 
and glitter above 

the world around us 
of carbon dioxide and carcinogens 
and syntax 

i can never see you

insects have it all figured out
flies have their compound eyes 

i have only these two 

my aura will travel up the living room curtains 
all orange and red and devouring

how tachinid larvae eat their host from the inside 

how emotions do the same

dogs

i'll never understand why 
she gives all her goodness to dogs 

to the hounds that trail her 

i can see her face 
and touch her hand 

but i know 
there are galaxies 

between us

val

cheeks dent inward as she draws the alcohol 
through the little black straw 

an eternity there 

a tiny moment 
a flicker of a light bulb 
the batting of her light-brown eyes 

we talk palahniuk and love 
and misanthropy 

i remember 

her eyes overflowing 
like a soul melting and emptying out 

god has no place in her heart 
no right 

there was a glowing white carriage 
like a constellation in the sky

ra

it tugs at my nerves
like a snuff film 

i don't want to watch 

i don't want to feel what i feel 

this is jealousy

i need a civilization 
to be wiped from existence

for the moon to crash into the earth 

for the sun to explode 

i can feel a pair of lips on my cheek 

maybe the ghost of a bullet 

in a bar-scape 
your body is the center
like a star 

where primitives worship

where you

are you

when

i don't even think about that charred skeleton of a home anymore 
where the heart drained 

i don't even live there 

or so i tell myself 

where polaris went supernova 
where i died or lived 

i can never be sure 

where we turned with the world 
like pupils rolling back into our own skulls 

making love to the idea 
of being human 

and making love 

obsolete

endoaortic

the hydrogen glow
takes eight minutes to reach me

it passes through the atmosphere
and then through my rib cage

heaven has tear ducts 
that leak
like garbage bags

black sleep 
rotting at the bottom of wishing wells

amphitrite floating dead
in her brine

but you're you
you're always you

flickering in and out of this place 
and of the butterfly eyelash
iris' going supernova

to lay waste
to this wretched world