“do you ever dream of me?”
she teased, her pearly whites tracing fading skin.
”i wish, but i only dream in numbers,
a consequence of my tangential brain.”

she turned her eyelids into lead
as she gave me 32 gin-stained tattoos.
i curled my toes as she drank the marrow
hungrily from my lazy bones.

now my skin refuses to fit me,
epidermal jeans on an old man’s ass.
i shake like a charm when i roam the streets,
my hollow bones quivering,
ticker tape pouring out of my skull.

the dental records on my chest,
merely sinusoidal reminders of the past.

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