headcanon

one:

morphine stunts through your veins,

& you wake up with acrid lonesomeness on

a lemondrop summer- songbird’s tongue.

duochrome tapestries hang underneath

shrunken in sarcophagus- limbs

all leaking persimmon pulp.

manic pixie dream girl leaves you

a gift card- all swollen headrests, a testament

to locking eyelids across weekday japanese

breakfast / markets. peach pits pulsing

into subway steps, sheathing

a paperback underbelly.

two:

motion sickness: shopping cart

escapades into melting july autumns;

everything is sterile now: every plastic

supernovae bulging into spoiled milk.

every gossamer plane shifting into

controlled oblivion.

there may be pondglass lodged into

a pageboy’s esophagus.

three:

undone; trailer park adorns a

tie-dyed hurricane. suburban dreaming:

dust settles into backwater recesses,

& you drink up a weeping snowdove’s final aria.

this is not how fairytales are meant to end.