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Medulla of the Soft Fabric Wings


brain bubbles up to the surface of another murky puddle strung low between two tired trees who cant help but laugh at me that sinnersaint paganpriest trapped caught believing “a tree is more than a tree” either way my deities know that here i am in this slipshod cityjunk extratrash swamp where im not supposed to be and in one way i am not here just a mud splattered fleshghost sagging forwardlike peeling off skin pretending to purify sweatreams that highlight my anxioustread veins im a highway collapsing into disuse i want my nameless goddesses to consume this pavement person me with moss and cess and vine and line my head with swampwater while my brain bubbles up...

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