May 10, 2017
beach death of their own accord
livestream my high-fructose demise on the beach watch me get stabbed by my own shadow sickly slick between wet sand and the scent of saline
will you drag an inflatable mattress for six miles down washington blvd and ease in to the pacific ocean with nothing but handfuls of cold kue lapis and a lingering memory of exchanging clay turnips with dark moon eyes on salmon and charcoal checkered linoleum
if you make it to an island collect the pale blue rocks and a tincture of seafoam write to me in wet sand to the tune of high tide each line polished, then washed out without a trace
