shuffling through midterms and papers right now, i've got sheep jumping over supply-demand curves in my dreams, there's too much corona (yes, there's such a thing) in my fridge - leftovers from past birthdays (look at all the cancers.) they're good for my papers... i can't write academic papers sober anymore (and strange, i seem to get better grades this way too.)   
   
deflating, coming back to earth, head's spinning, so dizzy, keep quiet, i'll be back soon.  
 
(been at this desk so long i'm dreaming that my skin is made out of post-it notes, let me unpeel each square of skin and walk around wearing my muscles like a wrinkled pink blazer. i'll stick the post-it notes on you when you're not looking... shy little reminders of how my body felt next to yours.)