7/28
sometimes, i throw out the cheap searing vodka and take out glistering champagne that are only drunk by ivory angels with multiple dead presidents in their bubblegum fur clutches.
the ocean runs away from me and the sky picks me up. i am high in the sky. there's bubbles in my glass and so many in my stomach, and when they pop, i giggle and the sky follows along like i'm some kind of pop song. everything is warm. i drain the sun's colors and now i'm the star. i am at the center and i flood the heavens with light. god teaches me how to breakdance and my bones muscles limbs become limp and i twist shake turn and all the angels yell out, "holla!"
and colors spill out like a flood. we just keep on dancing and drinking bubbles. i take my heart out of my chest and it has turned into a gold medal. the egyptians give me a barbecue for my birthday and the greeks build a statue of me for christmas and the romans always call me on fridays and invite me for dinner on saturday.
but then the flowers are melting and the earth chokes on the kaleidoscope and future is too loud and there's too many bubbles. the egyptians don't even have a grill and the greeks won't get any government funding and the romans lost their phone at some sweaty heavy metal concert and their mashed potatoes are like lumpy mountains.
so, one day, i fall out of the sky. my wings burn and i plummet into poseidon's arms (sound familiar?). i land deep within the breast of poseidon. down here, there are sharks who have lost their wings and whales who can't sing. the sharks giggle at me and the whales whisper about a lunatic who used to have wings. sebastian plays a mournful song on his violin. the bottom is always dark. the water is black.
i pull out my emergency vodka and burn my guts.
i'm back home.
