iamhomeless:
Her absence feels like a sloth
trying to punch a...
Her absence feels like a sloth
trying to punch a telephone book through my head.
“Do telephone books still even exist?”
I ask the sloth.
“Fuck,” the sloth says, stopping its fist
that was approaching my head
like handicapped molasses.
“You made me mess up.
Now I need to start all over…”
The sloth readjusts the telephone book
on my forehead then slowly
begins pulling its fist back
to its starting position.
I remain seated & watch the seconds
dress in drag, tucking their short cocks between their legs,
convincing me they’re centuries,
& wonder if I’ll ever feel like
anything more than piss waiting
to be wiped off this 4 billion-year-old
toilet seat.
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