1.

It’s too hot today and my lungs burn from sips of drain cleaner and snow, citrine and topaz. I blow smoke in the shape of halos and you wonder when the devil climbed into bed. I catch your inconsistencies, bullets with my teeth. Breathing the exhaust, sweat stains on your t-shirt, nail marks on your back, thorns on your head, tangled limbs and lingering kisses. You’ll leave with promises in your fists, ones I will never keep. Still you push me against walls of churches, and I tear through the knots, clawing under a veil of black satin; streams of booze and broken mirrors salt water, spring air, and snow: place me on the other shore.