tht yr snbms mghtnt

could i write this

  as if the twitter

   wasn’t on it all? as if

       different conduits

    were the orchids

     we could press? as if

       toxicity had arrived

                 in other ways,

                    luv? as

                          if

        the blood that gave us up

          could somehow

           be introduced

      at the market

        or poppy field;

  & these questions as if

   there could be first responders

    or that your sunbeams

   might not shatter

     but refract

  the windows

    systems that opened

        or closed

  operating your handends bitten

    as crimson individuals

        digits bound to forget script;

   could you write this any better

               on sunkist galleons

    or driven by gangs of literature

  early on all those forgotten mornings

    scrolling through the feed

       of everything else…

                   we forget

    how to enter rooms & freeways

  to merge

  or collide

   we detect strong motion

  are forced to run

   & someone turns, says

     it’s your turn to speak

              cunt.