sipping from the hamstrings
I always burn my tongue.
calibrated,
very much stray.
thanked-out, interpersonal---
a friend to the loaded
and a friend to the mime.
I scrape one fang against the television, disdain
my role as a heartbeat replicator
and a camera obscura
inside this lightbox
to my little negatives, I say :
my god is my setting.