Poetry & Prose


There are gaps in the papyrus
And your skin is like papyrus
The kind that was kissed once a while ago

A friend asked me about hookups,
And I talked about a dream I had
Where I realized I could fly. all along.

And I guess I can turn the papyrus into mummy wrappings,
2000 years from now, you will find the inscriptions,
“I like like you” or something.

Maybe we are better suited for desert climates
But we’re all so gotdamn thirsty
or trying to get off the sanded ground.

And to fly I think you need feathers—
What is that thing with feathers?
And do you have to kill a bird to make quills?

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