page 1
it seems that I have been mistaken
taken, alone into a quiet forest to hold my head
and i hear you,
your voice coming over the hill and the trees
its going to take me away with its hands and hold me in the depth of our last moment
which i spend looking at your eyes

page 2
my pupils were dead and i knew nothing of them or the nostalgic smell i continued to ignore

page 3
i want to put my brain in front of the dinner table and pick at it like i’m not hungry
and i’ll offer to clean the dishes

page 4
i flatfoot stepped in the paved driveway
occupied with the red house that haunted the crevice of my eye;
i bestowed it; the brim of it; the roof; and the blue and green grass it sat on
a little eerie man lives there
my mother told my youngest hami-down
that in the peak of night, he comes outside and holds a flashlight upwards under his chin and makes scary facial gestures
she told him it; the irony of it; and the humor that it should shed on him because he understood that it was false
but what if i told you,
that i’ve seen the man?

page 5
call me if you want to hear what i see when i walk
call me when your voice is low and slurred because you’re drunk and you love me
call me when your hopes vanish and your bride abandons you. call me when the raging storm inside yourself turns upright. call me when im alright

page 6
naked sensory and cool background rock
i hung my arms beside my stomache and i was shirtless
blonde girl in linen played sand-volleyball with the muscular anxious sunglasses
and i sat barefoot idle in my own mind’s prison