i slept. i kicked and fought at first, like i’d told you i would, (audible frustration, neighborhoods away) but i gave in and slept. i slept fourteen hours. i went to bed sick and i woke up sick and that morning, i gave birth through my mouth, my teeth to push. hands to receive fever dreamsthe over-turned fishtank, the constant struggle for ‘reverse’ in every sense of the word, strangled empty-eyed blonde twins, buried under a willow tree, (dirt under nails) tin-can telephone wrapped around my ankles, trailing over the golden rug and stretched 1000 miles out the window. deep breathing. like we mean it. but all the same we throw up.
a collection of collage work and poems that explores the space between dreams and reality.