hot's shit

when I am sick of my everyday I look at pictures of boats on the water
no sailing blood, just mer-ears receiving the call of the sea
and it’s not even so much the call of the sea but rather
the call of the land from the sea
below—saline spray calcifies my magic straight; above—ultraviole(n)t tendrils finish my praline crisp, biore-blind
endless swells and shoals like the drippings of my broiled mind
this daydream has walls—wrestling with thoughts isn’t optional, it’s spiritual
my intrusive demands bleeding into the surface of the sky, tattoos lining god’s eyelids
and when he blinks I ask what I’m here for
but god doesn’t talk back
and I can’t stand on top of a reflection so
veins coursing with water, I look back at the shore
imagine myself an unfamiliar
(and we all know how much you love aliens)

living life at a different frame rate, voice stuttering
people stink-eye but the way I talk is just the way I talk
and I beg of you
don’t look too closely and we’ll be okay
don’t stop to rest and you won’t notice your sleep state
I apply an additional layer of saliva to my bubble ball
another pointlessly thin and intimate expression
that interfaces the world on my behalf
because this sublimation is
just another dream fragment to tide me over
for one more day

“I waited till sunrise for my wings to appear
...
they never did
maybe tomorrow”