nerium sap

I bask in sunlight and soak in rain and tell myself I’m photosynthetic. Bile builds up at the back of my throat and I pretend not to taste it. I bleed and pray I smell of moss over carrion. My stomach is full of my mother’s milk, starlight and nerium sap. Every time I fear I’ve forgotten how to breathe, I wish I had. I take each bet knowing I’ve lost, vying for an ache that will forgive me. Let the soil be kinder to my lungs than the smoke I respire.