she falls asleep eating her teeth, the desert in her bones. always thirsty for something that burns, her gums bleed pleas for an explanation of everything: the jaguars, the mountains, the hole in her chest.
in the morning, it will all be the same.
this is only a dream he says from the couch and his lips are something I thought I remembered but they only taste like smoke. one day this will all make sense, he says, but I’m not as disillusioned as I used to be. I can see through walls, through the chambers of his heart and I don’t even know if I want to anymore. ignorance is bliss, I say to the objects in the next room.
they don’t answer and I don’t know if I expected them to anyway.