book of

[nonsun_blob_a]

walk the pre-dust halls of this future mausoleum
monument to memories and the polaroids that see them
myelin scarves and a cannibal's scars and the soldiers that rode out to meet them

we all climb the steps of cold synapses
feel Darwin's razor on our cheeks, it reeks of dead leaf slashes
we shrug off train stations like unfluttered eye lashes
and our mothers pull the sheets down from frightened faces
smoke in the air telling us that the night light didn't make it

we woke up to find that the emergency room had lost her
our language hit the floor
and suddenly we were monsters