You would think the sidewalks were made from gold

From all the rumors regarding this place

A fabrication that is bought and sold

Tradition is lies into lemonade

The fragility of life will always terrify me.

Sometimes I feel so vulnerable, 

thinking of all the ways my life could spontaneously end –

the accidents

the inflictions

what I inflict.

Vanessa and I talk.

We like talking.

The smell of acetone and wine

fight in the warm air.

A lull of

Avett Brothers music fills the

silence.

Our nail beds

burn,

from too many attempts at

and when you talk in your sleep the voice is never your own

and when the world ends and the next begins our radio stations

will still patiently recite their numbers. (dear mx. god,

is this how it feels to be replaced?) In the wilderness,