cToWnIvSoTlEuDtUePd

for old time's sake
the honey spills in Network Time Delay fashion
from our hands as the heat
glares up from the road and is swallowed
by our pinprick eyes that gazed into the
newspaper night.
i feel like i can reach out and
tear my way through the time.
as i pull my hand back, the letters lash
off the page of the night
and prick my fingers.
indigo collects and all at once
surface tension gets lazy
and my dreams escape from the
gaping holes in my hand.
i pull myself through one of them-
my skin is surprisingly elastic-
and i see through my eyelids.
they are wax paper and i dont get details
but the essences pop out,
pressed against the film
like a two seconds after a
face has been pressed against a pillow.
meaningless.