Tread the line between therapy and poison
like huddled rattles
in the Black Hills.
Antidotes were made for arrows
and glands,

not the mouths
dripping in indigo and mice.

Thin strips of soggy pelt
mate ecstasy
with rigor mortis.

There’s expertise. There’s experimentation.
The difference lies in the electrons
lining pufferfish lungs.
There’s three protons
between breath and salt
and one distracted knife
between breathing or not.


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Hello, fellow bundle of nerves and flesh! I'm a simple little being who's half-poet, half-scientist, and all gelatinous chaos. Sort of like an illogical marshmallow. If you'd like to learn more, please seek out the "First Impressions" page. Thank you for the visit, bundle friend.

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