the woman in my phone

✮⋆ Where might we be without so much influence?

the woman in my phone

the woman in my phone tells me / I’m alive, but / doing it wrong. if I want / glass skin I have to drink my featherweight / in alkaline water–you know the kind / blessed / by the sacrifice of a virgin spring / and bottled in Murano / (to avoid BPA).

the woman in my phone tells me / I am / to become a slug / at night; to start / with milky jelly cleanser and end / with mouth tape. there were ten more / commandments, but how / is one to slurry magic magnesium / while that red light mask just screams / for chianti?

the woman in my phone tells me / I could / emerge from a silken slumber; shed / the slug-self upon waking; / make the most of my 5-to-9. / she is / fluent in asmr matcha and belly-burning / herbs. she is / (already) / on her giddy, little way to honor / the pilates gods with a bag / full of lemons.

the woman in my phone is / the perky chirping / too close, to my face / the anti-MPDG doting on her devoted / the great, glaring unsecret shared / with confidence / while I rot and watch and wish / for new birdsong.