There is an eyelash on the page;
you call my name, 
You call my name,
eleven digits in a straight neat line.
Seven leans out
to place his order.

I peel the skin off my lip and drop it in the bin,
and lick off the blood. This, 
this is decomposing. I am breaking down 
into the blue carpet, ready to feed the young
and the new,

Sinking into the grass faster than you
fed my letters into the shredder.
There is the itch, then comes the red
then you melt into the soil, and spend the rest
in the ground.

The carpet is brown, and when you slow down enough
you see yourself vibrate
way out there 
(she gestures with one outstretched hand)
You’re bigger than the room!
You are the warm and the wet
and when I entropy on over and out, 

I’ll remember you for that.