frosted window sill

few breaths from sleep

open mouth and free flowing drool

the ceiling looks like holes and mold

and the things i say are stand up for uninterested crowds

my fingers

are pliable but not independent

is that gout or paranoia

drugs or deprivation

my body

is coalescing into something greater

emulsification of dyke night and bite marks

walking contradiction

i can't figure out quite when freaky got hot

and maybe it still isnt