LittleKuroiNeko

wake me screaming, dreaming spiders threaded like diamonds, like feathers, like berries on a vine, wrapped-- your hand 'round my neck, choking "hush, hush, huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuush." gasp the name you gave the puppy you sneaked home in second grade because it's only now (breath ragged, eyes wide) you remember that puppy had a collar, had an owner, had a home before --you-- ripped off her tags, left them heaped in the bushes down the block, told dad her name was intuition because mom wouldn't let you keep her otherwise. and i am quivering, quaking, quiet; just another plaything you spirited from somebody else's fenced-in yard.

blue feathered birdsong, a long pastel dream growing hazy with time, your skin ridged like scales–an alligator purse you can’t pull off your arm–in the cold of after thoughts and wakeful to-dos it’s wrong, believing what they’ve all been telling you: not good enough, not pretty enough, not worth a scrap of salt on a piece of last week’s finest cut going to the dogs because it tumbled out of the pan, off the rack, past the oven door close those sleep-swept eyes no longer than five seconds into the downpour, sweep the lies of your subconscious out the front door and off the welcome mat into the dust where it