from terrestrial animal

Imagine your life here. The naugahyde couches, the faded styrofoam rocks. What to do with the body, once the body has started to disintegrate. The curtains would be lovely in the sun but the pattern makes you gag into the perfect pink bowl of the toilet. Your pink pills circling the drain. There are too many lovers in your house and not nearly enough martinis. In the bathtub, you loll while the lights dim and there is so much static. Your hair impeccable, the highs impractical. At night, you dream about dinner parties, in front of every guest, a steaming pile of dog shit, your good silver still nested quiet in the sideboard and bleached clean. The perfect pool where your guests swirl perfectly in the green jello mold shaped like a heart.



(available soon as part of the dusie e-kollektiv and in my 2014 zine subscription series...)