2 ol 2 b excptinal, anytig spcal

i am approaching anciency

my expiry date the distance between
index finger and thumb,
beheading fluted plastic.
it is dark blue like the wine in my dream,
moët’s skinny dipping into flames
and this is how i taste my shrivel

they don’t feel that spiced dryness but i do

do check the carton before
purchasing any product.
2 ears late and the milk is sour on the tongue,
curd rising into its cream architecture
that knives the palate open as his
jaw shuts to a close

alligator i have broken you

elevator a love letter, a date.
eighteen years and quickly dying, damn.
choke that thought at its condensation
the light of the mind is blue like Plath
as dramatic, as true,
my yellow tongue pressed up against

your two front teeth are cracked

like the erosion of cameron highlands.
a landslide victory to nine years
and now a tumble down the stairs at
nine years more. my curdle fertiliser pours
into the soil of your lips, how
mutable, how they open

into the terror of my name

it is grey. first a toddler petrified, age-old,
no clatter of teeth but an exhale through
wrinkled crevices exhausted of rupture.
it barricades a lie, the noun your milkweed
melts into a mild meek smile
actually actually actually

, defined as the overstepping of time
rotten tongue missing the mark of the mind.

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