rasasvada
“Kiss me baby, my tonsils itch.”
I slept in a pond of sweat. tadpoles slid over my body, running down my nose and thighs into streams of minerals and phlegm. butterflies sputtered at the surface, skimming the moisture on beaded wings. purple lights flashing and the fireflies catching the flame in their bellies. blink - blink - blink. I poured a fizzy drink, bright orange—neon elixir. I swallow the electrolytes in one breath. magnesium, zinc, vitamins B + C. the patter of fuzz on my tongue soothes the swelling. tell me to try again. I set the empty glass on the floor. its concave begs me to place something in it. some things were made to hold, support and withstand pressure. I won’t make it through the night. I swim in a lake of creatures. convex, that which moves upwards. a meadow with wildflowers slurring sonnets. my body is furry as a peach, pitted and torn on one side. my blood is too slick. I hook my ankles around your shins and hold on. someone like you comes once in a lifetime.
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