at some point
while you create
yourself you try
to kill who
you are and
drop your psyche
in a bed
of pearls designed
like lasers trying
to distract the
bug that still
dances in your
head and you
think it whispers
darkness into existence
and sings soft
violence onto your
skin and tattoos
your bones with
cracks and you
pray for the
sun to rise
in reverse just
because it would
be different and
you no longer
can feel your
toes or see
the window so
the bug gilds
gold and pastes
a picture of
the window open
Andrew was born in the high deserts of Northern Nevada and seems to be stuck in the sagebrush and wind. He gained his MFA from Saint Mary’s College of CA. He currently lives outside in ID with his wife and 2 children. His work has been published in Dunes Review, The Meadow, and Blood Orange Review.