Nina Goes Harlequin

Nina wakes and wishes she could spill her heartache into the room
but it is already too empty
& big enough for a battle

written on one wall
in an explosion of rust:
I DROPPED BY TO SEE YOU

yep, you dropped by alright
just like a flushable moist wipe

beep beep
incoming message from
mr yellow mellow:
found those mouse skin gloves you wanted

and?

and one glock 9mm

I don't remember asking for one of those, you gumless socket!

my dear friend, you don't remember alot of things lately.. TTYL

he was right, she spent far too much time drifting between dream stations
watching ________ spit his seed into every porcelain ashtray of an open link.
damn him! he was the dark star taped to every page she wrote, a blue moon stuck in her throat.
Nina fights the urge to dig out her opiate tuck. instead she puts on her favorite dress: pale & cool with real leafy undertones. she adorns her hair with a few closed michelia champaca buds, grabs her silver purse & skips down the
sometimes there - sometimes not

Unable To Send Because Of Spurious Software

Nina puts on some soft head plus fingers and writes:

click-clock,

thanks for the leaf full of time.
don't forget the murdered when
you dismantle

who would not fall to your stroll


killer feathers



tiny channels

kiss.

..///././/..

Nina Loses The Remote Control

his close echoes surround her teeth
his style is her style

spread out
&
smoke mellowed


she wants his lips
to wiggle on her forearm
his tongue to
make her move
like
a
fast
car

her mouth can taste his face
his saw-hair
his knees

she wants him to grease his thoughts
and slide slower

do you want more?

she nods &
adjusts her eye shine

Tuesday

she woke up with one sock on and
one sock off

they were green knee-socks and
reminded her of the girl scouts and
that goofy sun on the old kellogg's
raisin bran box .

on the mail screen from Valentino Body:
dig, Date: Feb 5:37 AM Spam or ? ]

these `,`,`ords in heads, burn.

clock rod order
arks and your hands
i've flagged tomorrow,
you red bow nanna absorbed in white

Check Clear Next

then
that little slish- swishing sound
like in the beginning of that postal service song,
Such Great Heights

Nina Rides A Hundred Miles In Six Hours

her sleep is mystical nonsense
she can not answer his shape
only sense his face
he has a beard
artfully disguised as soft

after midnight nina gets caught in the mesh of search

passing a mysterious pile-up of kisses
the brakes start cracking &
her windshield buries all mass of runout stars
maybe even footsteps
always beautifully missing

conditions:

she has avalanche dreams
teddybears with eyes cuffed in blue

once champagne fell from the heavens &
a drunk boy put out his cigarette