I want to be so sad I can’t close my eyes to cry as I drive through miles of corn the same color as an east coast autumn when your eyes are also corn fed and when I crush my body into clay and fold my insides into a doughy cloud of myself I will sleep easier on a mattress alive with grains, alive with countless pebbles of your heart that shimmer as you step from the shower and shimmer as I roll down the windows and sweat like an ocean, and sweat like a mistake.
