Between millions and billions.
Four legs, eight arms.
Gills, fins, tentacles, and pseudopodia.
Life scattered in the troposphere,
Somewhere in an unknown address, I breathe.
In the attic, I lie,
The melanin cells in my hair follicles have died.
Covered in grime.
Amidst broken furniture,
Old books and lab manuals.
Engulfed by chaos,
In a metal box lies my essence forgotten.
Scratches on the enamel coating,
Measuring the days I’ve walked on earth.
Giggles running down the slippery pages of my first book.
The goblet containing my teenage grog.
Broken wax crayons and empty nail polish bottles.
Wooden beads and pieces of fabric cut from my first birthday dress.
A marred polaroid picture.
I keep it close to my cardiomyopathic heart,
I smell cypress in the air today.
Clock’s hands spinning nonstop,
And just like that, I wither.
Drowned in the sweet caramel lake of oblivion,
With a polaroid picture in my hand.