- parasite
you see a body with debt overflowing out of their chest.
tomorrow i will catch a butterfly. next month i will rebuild an estranged relationship. whatever it is, i sleep with one less version of regret.
both of you go to a park and the body tells you how they melt a stick of butter. the butter is rationed slowly and you feel sorry. debt overflows from their chest and tickles you.
1) sign a contract with all their debtors
there are many meanings to the word ‘guarantor’. to you, it is chasing after every iteration of air. the body promises you that the only thing owed will be a ring, but the body does not say this. you want the ring now. it glistens in the softest corner. you ask a question that surprises you both.
the body does not say anything. you are still a guarantor. there are now two corpses.
body, with enough pity to bound your throat, says it is because of circumstance. because people always catch the earlier flight home. make a vow. perhaps it would be for the best. say you love them repeatedly.
1) say you love them repeatedly
the body bathes in a golden shower of affection. it rolls around in your bed, dripping wet and rank with salt. you resign to poison as if it were potion. in your dreams that night, the body is suspended from rope.
carrying a (redacted) kilo body on the slope of your back, you thirst for an exit.
the body fuses to your bone. you move an arm and it chides you gently, that it tickles.
soon it tells you to stop moving completely, but it says you can forage for food.
but you do not want food.
there is no point in getting stronger
when your throat is dissolving.
is this a flicker of life? no.
wake up.
the body is next to you.
hello.
you love them.
they are staying.
