To wake from a dream of our teeth falling out
and realizing that our loneliness belongs to the sea.
Existential crisis part two, and this time I am trapped
by an onslaught of chainsaw catapults.
How many times will I wake up inside of myself
before I realize which timeline I exist in.
Unless the hands writing this are just the manifestation of
a fabrication of a copy of a hallucination
that my former self is experiencing.
We are on drifting glaciers
which are bound to collide on different planes.
Daaaamn homegirl thirsty as hell in this film that I’m watching.
If you’re reblogging my selfies, I’ll assume you’re tryin to fuck.