Here Is People (formerly the lucky forever freefallers)Elizabeth Hildreth
Last night I was loose and everything was better than it was. I army crawled through the trees deaf/blind/rubbed my bones against a bear–a metaphor for honey and heavy and hairy–and breathed and licked a small incision– what I felt must be flowers. I braced it with blocks, shoved it under a mammoth rock, but the world never stops coming in, with its nurses in neat white hats and a floor I can see my face in. Every day starts like this. With a dream. Or two. One. I'm eating you. When I finally get my mouth cranked open like a speculum I'm yawning valleys, we're bursting into fireflies. The headline: Fireflies, a First: Say There's No God Now. Two. I'm in heaven. Wearing jeans, and so is Jesus. Jesus is so jealous of my jeans, Jesus is he jealous. Little does he know this is the only thing I can get into. The headline: Jesus Wants What Lady Got. I would love to but I can't go on. I can't make myself. I don't even keep screws around the house anymore. The morning smells like toast. It's so real. I have less than an hour before Here is People.
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