Making dead wood more blest than living lips -
Two children looking through,
a box of bright blocked toys -
trying the places
one might cancel
another's white noise.
Do you like this heart-shaped box?
The way I curl my lips to make it?
Connecticut, it’s four o’clock,
and I’m just getting wasted.
Try to call to say I’m happy,
brb, I’m buying drunk kebab and chips -
Tuesday, I’m standing out in the rain again,
texts say you’re feeling shit.
On days I can’t find the shapes,
they’ve all got shit to say,
So I think
about the prickly heat,
one sunny day in May.












