Beams of light burst into my core, bubbly and not too self aware. The electron amusement park is quaint and charming. The magnetic field of my metallic sight is baby pink and shifting constantly. My secrets are eating me one bite at a time. I am the bottom of the rainbow being devoured by neon glowing fungi. But in this radical light brimming up to the top of my head, I feel a hope larger than Pike’s Peak.
Day: May 11, 2026
Math I Can Smell
Roaring orange fantasies float like a triangle song (waltz) until they blend with the dawn. Crunchy consciences brace with brittleness for the coming judgment. “Today is the day the Lord has made. Rejoice and be glad in it.” My rejoicing shaves off growths of fear bubbling out of my tired skin. He has to do that over and over, the dermatologist keeping me held above the flames. My mistakes cling to me like bacteria, multiplying. Math I can smell.
Miniature Moon 