tick tick tick tick

you can flick your cigarettte
easier than you can
flick your blinker.

there's a
wall of words

constantly

bubbling behind the barrier
between

throat and tongue
(it's touching the epiglottis)

the plane of your face,
two dimensional,
hard as dried cream cheese
(but purer)
is littered with seasonings of
fur.

i wish
to kiss.

familiar forbidden forestry.
i think we share
similar heart tissue.

unless i really am
delusional.