credit: piper
the water in the teapot begins to boil.
i am trying to see how many spit bubbles
i can fit on my tongue.
i'm not counting, and that is not the point.
there is a haiku written on my back in lipstick
by a stranger i met over the internet.
i dont know what it says.
but that is not the point.
you and i both wake up with the dawn.
it is like an experimental film.
shall we spin out life in our fiery raptures?
shall we stay in bed?