mooncakes

wrap your laced-up fingers around my throat like you don’t want to breathe,

hold my pupils in your palms. do you want to smile?

amnesia. the brain doesn’t like the watercolour poem of my skeletal frame,

once i sat down on the curb and told you, love, these things aren't what we're used to.

we're stop signs like angels circulating (don't breathe, don't move)-

I hold my prefrontal cortex with the shame of

sinking, water lilies seeping from my lips into the grey-green

marsh I call (uselessly) 

home.

My mind hisses with the strain of too many canned-up voices

saying

solar-soft night because i stayed up whispering non-existent melodies to the dreaming clouds,

pierced the veil of daybreak with needle-sharp notes-

The tips of our earbuds

Like closed-up flowers, echoing the melodies of drawn-out words

Connect, bone spurs on a spinal cord,

Pure and pearl-white in the midnight

Underneath the sun-bright lone street lamp on 4th Avenue

We all hold hands with murderous intent

tra

ci

ng

the line between good and evil

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