consumere

i am consumed.

sucked into. pulled under. plastic over

ducked lips, eyelashes beneath

leather heals, knelt beside the trough that is

getting emptier because I

drink and drink and drink.

you are squandered.

knit together with floss that was

pre-clipped for use before

dentist’s offices smelled like

insurance’s breath.

we are wasted,

not wasting away.

crumbling like the kneecaps

of dali’s elephants eroded

by the dynamic duo of

decades and disappointment.

no, we are wasted

in the city licking peanutbutter

from where it fell

on pavement because that is

the pattern we’ve created.

dents that clothes leave on skin

mean that maps are worth more than mountains,

plastic more than gold,

means that angles are better than spirals better than

angels better than dirt.

we have wasted circles

into squares stacked like

cartoon caterpillars, curious

to see how many bites you can

take out of the sky

before the moon notices.