Animating Funerals

Perfect sleep that lasts for days. This body is an archive. This mind a graveyard. The dead what we live for.

Children in wet pajamas in beds made of clay. Chewing the feet off their barbie dolls. Because. Because her toes are always pointed. Because her boyfriend has no penis and her car never runs out of gas.

Cutting onions. As fast I can. The circus acrobatics of boredom. Empty clown shoes everywhere. I told them all to go away. I stole and built a dungeon from all their red foam noses. So that they wouldn't come back.

I only left behind the shoes. Plastic drugs at the heel of every step. White faces poached by painted grins. The amber of their long eyelashes turning the moon into a prison. Some soft rehab of salt and vinegar like how life tasted before I couldn't keep it down.

I'm sick. But I'm not stupid.