home

Sound seeps into my tastebuds and

drools out my mouth corners.

Each release steeps a memory. or

two. or three reminiscing qualities. they’re

dinner dates with another artist three drinks in.

Rhythm swirls and melts like the last glob of

a tootsie pop. Spins

the time together, as well. Threads my skin back

enmeshed with my face. Wriggles its

beat into the tears across my shoulders,

soothing them.

My fingers feel giddy. Cultivate

full brains of emotions, salvage

nerve endings, and multiply them to

bulb my prints into pulsing balloons.

Gray matter shakes soft—

gooey.

Slops against the walls of my skull; spreads it’s

tongue pressed wide to its container,

stroking upward. warm, wet mouth slabs surround my

brain cavity lapping gray matter from its walls —

foraging gently. in unison. in

slow motion: flicks of twenty

tongues excavate wishbones I thought

only existed in my pelvis.

I buck upward,

decompress my spine, and

dip into another nod.

Time hums with

space and memory. I

am amidst their vibrations,

forgetting all the lyrics.