beast

i met a beast
who had fur that looked and felt like tree bark. rough,
raw, and broken.
its eyes
seemed like dull pebbles. so small, so unbreakable.
when it ate, it only ate dead things,
recycling limp rabbits and stiff gerbils in its stomach.
its gaze, heavy and studious
prickled my skin, rose my arm hairs.
i ran away.

i met a man
whose words i ate
like cold watermelon slices on a hot, august day.
he worked long hours at his 8am-5pm office,
cracking his knuckles as he typed in his small, unorganized cubicle.
this man looked like the man in the white, pale cubicle next to him
and like the man in the cubicle after that
and the one after that.
this man
pissed on his neighbor’s bushes
purposefully shat all over the toilet, his bathroom’s white linoleum floor
and touched himself in front of his children
who he didn’t think noticed.

i saw the beast again
under a streetlight, on a Wednesday night.
it looked alone, sad?, aloof.
i didn’t think
it should have been the one
alone.

a dreamy dance

I am a goddess covered in silver lilies

Who dances beneath the moon with fireflies

I paint my lips with the blood of fallen angels

And adorn my hair with the river’s shells;

I eat nebulae in the sky while slashing oceans into rivers;

Sometimes, I kiss the rose-gold unicorns and silver ivy

While tracing silver spells onto Aequorea Victoria.