you have trouble saying your name and you say it anyway

My cadastre of flesh / dissects me right to the bone

I am so afraid of being troubled and alone at the end of this world

We kept the kills quiet / amid rows of pale clover

Before you were born I binge-watched Hoarders.

We used to think that refugees / were of one kind / and we never knew / that we were too.

I stretch my neck into the next life.

I have no name unless I make / it back alive

we believe in ourselves / more than we believe in anything else

mijo—i know you have seen the night / as an excuse to hold your body like a bottle

What are days? Just him and / the left-over spiders.