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painkiller
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Bad poetry painkiller
split open almost
your two eyes
like growing galaxies
unfolded above
the breath and the vicodin
and the bodies. Ours
, two oblong eels around
a sunken ship. around
the vicodin. around
the breath around
like a spiral staircase into
the future, where it always rains
and we want to talk to everyone. life after vicodin
where my cock still
quivers beneath a warm palm that crossed over my body
and under it, enveloping.
after the vicodin, in the morning,
after the sun had regained it’s
cool and distant body,
i spent hours staring into an unblinking mirror.
my muscles felt like water.
my eyes were nearly split open.
the world stayed
blurry at the edges.
