Straying from the core.
I’ve been burying my head in
the deep past so much that
when I look up I’m surprised
to see normal trees and
grass and animals. Everything
has a tinge of impermanence now.


I can’t keep
mixing us up with
vanished carnivores and
ancient phenomena,
as if they are simpler
in their deadliness than our
own incendiary selves.
But where else can I find the
familiar comfort of extinction?


my lips purse to kiss the
softest mouth but transmute
into an angry crater that
renders your beautiful face
carbon dust.
my saber teeth rip into your
throat and our blood
finally blends
when all I really need
is to stop getting lost
in my nightmares of you.
instead,
the average global temperature
is 114 degrees fahrenheit
and ninety percent of the
planet’s species have gone 
extinct. There’s enough lava 
to cover the continent a mile high
in molten rock and enough
methane in the atmosphere
to tear apart the ozone, but I
still use your sunscreen rec.
It’s the best
you could research
in my price range.