Vanishing BodiesContentsAbout

II. Dissociation & Fragmentation

I Can’t Remember My Name

it exists in small pockets of sweet mint& tobacco

voices like tiny hammers

pink screens of dawn and road signsthat wonder how far until I break

champagne flutes of vodka

a lasso made of neon lights

birds flying throughmy empty rib cage

crying so hardto remind myself

it is okay to forget

to lock a door