Honest Surfaces

1. Mechanic blue skies reflecting the shape of my body de-bossed in your memory foam mattress.

2. No more honest surfaces here but a wide choice of hotels. The idea of tourists leaving the imprint of their skulls on mattresses all over the city is scary. I am curious about the potential massive shapes created over nights over bodies & nights heap over bodies against bodies until the trip is over.

3. A new hardness is felt when I think of our coordinates. Soft pores entangled like bike chains.

4. When my back bends like a spoon. Hitting jello at 200 mph.

5. Cause it’s zero to sixty in three point five. Smoother than a limousine. Can you handle the curves, can you run all the lights. It’s only about accepting the consequences of sounds and quoting Rihanna.

6. I want to know if I am really made of stone and sugar when I engage with the strength of the wind until my eyes cry independently of my neural tissues. Tears tasting like coconut.

7. Sometimes I am an endless coconut waterfall then.

8. I look up a survey to know which object I can be, based on my performativity. Halfway through I feel the stickiness of my muscles covered with price tags.

9. I choose to be a menthol capsule in a cigarette filter that you can crush right before you kiss.

10. But really when asleep, I am nothing but an oxygen thief.