that's mrs. mediocrity to you

i swallow purple and dream of bluebells
blanketing a field made of permanence

they put me under and i bleed in tandem
with color-blind heart
and restless fingers
tapping love songs to spiders
in starlit soliloquy

and we run
through red rivers
black oceans
dead forests

never out of breath
or short of currency

trailing ribbons
weaving knots
stitching sides

un
raveling

.

.

.