all limbs locked/in a tomb/a meditation of mediocrity/pretend/that all you are is just enough/that trying is abundance/that integrity, a farce/

pretend that red lips and long limbs are you spread across the ocean/that many want to be you/but few can ever feed from the food that is your mediocrity/I see the sun rise in your eyes/and set at your feet/you dig your toes in sand/to remind yourself/that maybe in the dark/a knife awaits/

I am glossy mouthed, so all the admiration can glide off of me/I am short stacked so that the time to read me, is abundant enough, to read twice/

I know a girl named silver dress/I know a boy named bangs a drum

I know a dead pile of bones remembered as the one who laughed in her sleep/

I wait for dreams

I wait for echoes

I wait/

and fall

apart

in meditation/pretending/that all I am/is just enough