Birth Control

The dark orchard of then obscured her mouth as she pulled out her straw. The fountain of red that is life spilling over the rim of her lips. Too many eyes she muttered as the world slumbered. Content with broken locks and fallen stars.

They're soaring she insisted. Not falling in the least. To no one in particular.

When comes in glasses too tall. For even the saddest among us to drink. Stiff condoms clinging to the waste basket. Heads of dolls scour the floor for their missing bodies. I don't know what to want. Or if there is anything left like that.

The hours vex in fibrillated ejaculations. wake up they say. taste the poison.

swallow it.

Trust us they say. the ladders at the back of her throat. Each rung collapsing under the weight.

of so much want.