Schrödinger's cat

You crept, crept into a room you've never seen. Time and time and time over.
Polished hair and face, gaze and lips locked on objectives. You allowed a
tongue to dance through your teeth, time and time over. Her thighs pressed on
your eardrums and her fingers sculpted you like chisels. You're temporarily
deaf and personalized.

Hours ago you were imagining girls' clothes
for you to disorganize.

You're at the bottom of the bed. And you already know that nothing that you really want
is going to happen down there. Your sex smells of shallow girls and nihilism.

I curse your forehead to remain orphan of an imagined fever that doesn't have
enough money to travel by plane. Although there is always chimeras you can
tame into loving you enough to carry you around.

You are not Sappho.

I let both of them take a peek at Schrödinger's cat.
All the water they've distilled will be of no use.

Inside the mountain, there is a cave. Inside the statue, more statues. Inside this bedroom, a trap. You crept, crept into a room you've never seen. Now it's my time to steal.

Your fingers don't fit in the socket any more.

Therefore nothing is left to electrocute.
The staleness air can't smell our worn out muscles.

There is no love grounded in invisibility. I find myself competing with my own parasites.
While we gradually camouflage ourselves with the TV channels we never asked for. There is no love grounded in our indistinctness being.

We speak but we never shout; We aspire about wanting the same things every day.
We talk but never negotiate.

I'm young, but nothing moves me. You're young but you've unmovable.

Yours mouths mimic dusty old French kisses.
You kill spiders, just because they're spiders.
You kill flies just because they're flies. Just because.
And we continuously start-stop-end this story, just because.
we fuck because we don't need to.

The Sun has asthma and refuses to breathe.

It-She appears tired. It-she doesn't follow you everywhere any more. It-She
sabotages your photosynthesis and interrupts the melting of the iron in your
blood. You're anaemic by nature. The sun doesn't warm your bed either.

You're also a walking alibi.

And the midnight clarity flogs your skin with cancer, where she doesn't want to
touch. There's nothing to see here besides the eclipse that is forming under
your feet, which will swallow me, whole without much scrapping its teeth.

We're all men here. Although never equal.

My heart was shot out from your mouth against a pale, pierced navel and
never returned again. I still have those urges to this day. There is the need to
see you eat meat again, and to re-digest me in sum and parts with her again. There's a
sharp pain in my ghost limb again.

We're all men here. Although never equal.