newtopia

you!

you are reborn

you are smooth white plaster.

down feathers.

closed eyelids.

(breathing and translucent, never opened)

shayna:

we are the new car smell

we shed like snakes

our skin

too small and fast to see

exploding off us like it had somewhere better to go.

(it didn't)

oh and

in this new and perfect land

the roads smell like fresh laundry

it is not bridges that are burned

every iris is ignited.

you will never see a popped balloon again!

roadkill is dead.

and with the merest feather tickle.

butterflies will drop the strings

of your gut elevator.

again and again.

like a seventh grade morning.