we'll die in groups of three

aanika,

    i live in a lucy in the sky with diamonds world, painted decades ago by a cocaine clouded mirror and an inkless pen.
&we're all blind, because according to ourselves we are different, when really, two-hundred and six bones ago we all were formless.

we could be blended together and no one would notice, because we're really no different inside.
    motives, hate, understanding, and love. we know how to kill, how to fornicate, how to die.

somewhere, there are

innocent men in a pasture somewhere where the clouds are dyed pink by the skin of the sun.
      one man falls down and is crushed into a labyrinthine bone spiral, spun thick with muscles and intestines like string. he's a man with brown eyes who never saw a bible,


                            according to it, he's going to hell.

      we're wretched and broken and we're all going to die, someday.

hating and loving and screwing saints into devils.


                                                                                    i twisted my trapezius muscle into clay and bound it to a boy with hazel eyes.
that was my first mistake, because he thought his eyes were brown.


    i proved him wrong and he left me for dead with scabs on my wrists and dreams leaking out of my eyes like vitreous fluid.
          now, i'm sick of shattered love poetry from kids cloned by hot topic

i'm sick of burnt honey scents from fires, and sidewalks cracked with anvils.
          because in my dreams i'm always watching hell encompass humanity, and wishing my eyebrows were more defined.

  falling from undetermined heights and wearing gold-encrusted saris.
and i'm running out of things to say because i want to live so i can see the eclipse of the earth, measure the moment between existences and let blasphemy take a stand under our fingertips.

        signed,

miasma