there’s a blonde out there saving my life

roots torn through soil;

this crusted rot our inheritance snatched up from below in armfuls, in mouthfuls; endless regurgitation in all manner of forms; a breeding ground, it has tasted of us in return

yet our lungs have vindictive capacities;

our minds have capricious visions;

and at the base of my fragile fumbling tongue there is a wailing – at the base of my trembling medicated heart there is a stampede

UPWARD.

savoring the gashes on my skin

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