inwhitehouses

i. I am a natural lucid dreamer. When I was sick, I dreamed away whole strings of days that burst with causal power, as if the sun, shining past my silted eyelids, had spilled a home behind them. You watched how well I played that girl: high heels, sparkle eyes, sitting on his work desk with my lips curled, legs crossed, booze at needle length beneath my skin expelling floral tones, pectoral blushes. I pretended to fall asleep on top of his blankets so I had access to my concave nest, a place without his hands on my stomach, no, and without his mouth on my shoulder. Now I am not even here and he doesn't know, not at all. ii. My res