37.5

honeymoon of a headache

in this cracked skull of spacetime

the hairline rift between work and

                                              working on it

                                                                       really, I am.

                                                                                      am I?

                                                                                             I know it doesn’t seem like it.

                                                                                                               does                       it?  

31.25

trying to fix things with the same futility

as asking Siri for help when she just googles like a common mortal.

                              how to stop being a dykey nightmare?

                              a dykemare?

                                                       [no, that sounds like a lesbian horse.]
I FOUND THIS ON THE WEB FOR “HOW TO STOP BEING A DAIKON NIGHTMARE”.
so thanks, I guess, for the radish salad recipes and air con manuals.
25

on the train.

stewing in my own juices. like an angry bolognese.

had to buy fruit tingles. so I wouldn’t eat the dog’s medicine. [also ate a crayon.]
18.75

•	the psychic who called me a stale marshmallow

•	the bird that ate the elastic from my clotheslined underwear

•	the cup-o-noodles trying to connect with me on facebook

•	the mixtape I got in middle school that was just “hero” by enrique, on repeat

•	the brain zapz and psyche scraps
12.5

sleep sand on the rim of my margarita

melatonin metallic in my brainfolds

you only fall asleep from pretending you already are,

so I try this for everything else too.

fake it until you make it, after all, and I can make dreams

where Healthy Harold emerges from my teeth and says, “I couldn’t have saved you.”
6.25

as I turn out of the driveway

I’ve never worried about leaving the stove on and starting a fire

but what if I left the vibrator gently buzzing in my nightstand

hornet’s nest of horniness

stirring us to earthquake dust

surrendering to the wasp
0

well,

        I just called myself the minestrone pony

        in the workplace
so I guess I've reached lucidity now. and I give it a 7/10.