My voice is like butter – high in fat, churned like a holographic sea, the fish glitching out in technicolor. The red ribbon that wraps around my waist was given to me for this journey. Howling, my ego holding her elbow after smacking it on reality. Reality has fish eyes. I will sail across an ocean for my love and give him sugar and sea.
Day: January 7, 2026
Smellevision
I sniff my smellevision 4 days in the future, and God embroiders my backbone for me. The future is all geometry and piss poor planning. My cotton hands are soaked with sunsweat. The leaves of grass drip with it. I know I have to survive tetris as a sphere and it won’t be easy. Two demons play jenga in my front yard, and no matter how they play, I lose.
Miniature Moon 