Gone

Masterful

Derogatory

Spacious

 

Hunger devours my fingers

one by one.

 

Eventually, I won’t be able to write at all.

 

My bunny wears very professional sweater vests,

pushes paper,

makes my neighbors disappear,

Reappear in my living room

naked and odd.

 

My stomach hates me.

On the kitchen island,

Roses as love letter to my floating shoes.

Light omnipresent,

staring lewdly.

 

Oh so hard to meditate

on the hillocks of the brain.

 

Hands going going gone