Peaches For Sale

lick your legs shine with spit arms folded on a hinge. the crease in your face is black where crows fold and attach. a ceremony at a masquerade. a depth entrenched with flooded walls, we're swimming upward, treading in waters calm that only grow colder. paint an arrow on your cheekbones. tired treadmill turning circles, sweeping your legs out from under you so that i may catch your falling body. we're slow burning our sodium from up here.