The Import of Increments/ Interior. Bedroom-Night

Smaller and smaller, slower and slower



                           crushing, cruising

Black Leather fetish, closing in on death

              (Close Up)

              Enamel on the

                     Bathroom tiles start to melt

Tighter by the hour

                      Day x day

                           Thorazine daze

                                 Slipping & sliding across the kitchen

          Beginning to catch up with my own breath

From way, way, all across the room, the bulb hanging looks like a soul

Not mine, maybe the previous tenant’s—  I wonder if they’re missing it?

The duvet thick and resplendent, the pillow plump and ready to suffocate

Singular light yet shadows don’t dance— how could they with no old timey tunes?

Only the wolf whistling of the predatory silence and the stink of the snitch

Keep us from blowing up our thumbs and floating away on expanded heels


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