I still haven’t turned into a ladybug
but woke up as a geode
swimming across an over-saturated lake
where nothing reeks of piss: or of fish: or of lake––
it smells like peach iced tea
my vision magnified & blurred
as if warped through yellow starfish:
everything sweet & light & sweet & light like a sun:
a sun englobed by a geode
I am a geode as big as my previous body:
occasionally I crash and rattle
against rocks who are less valuable than I am.
Everything glitters as if kissed with consciousness
and my skin is still skin
but without structure or melanin.
How to erase consciousness
if I am still as big
as my previous body
& heavier & more accountable & if I must float
across the river. Quick, quicker. You say:
geode geode, decelerate
But have you ever lived inside a volcano?
Consciousness is nothing but a nacreous scale on the tail
of the rainbow fish
or the light that escapes my center.
If I had to say two words for the rest of my life
they would not be
Nor would they be
they would be