this isn't like having foxes for throats. to rend, nothing. but false. orange. the rotation of your fingertips on desktops when you think no one is paying attention. these days feel like damp cardboard packing boxes. your entire hands. wear me like the choking shape of showers. and if i am [] then the world is a pack of lies. wrapped and sealed like cigarettes to cellophane. imagine. the soak of the sound and the smoke. when it's hot. this is the way my heart goes. all napalm. and pips. when the phone rings. and doesn't. and you are there. or you're not. and the wet pavement driveway makes it harder and harder. to stop.