I’m surrounded by cacti because this is America’s desert. I think I’m looking at water but I know that’s only one of god’s jokes. Like existence itself. Yesterday I drank my own blood to relieve my thirst. Today I will let my body dry to dust so I can move over the earth like sediment slowly surviving the slide of shift. Praying for air so I can be displaced into too many pieces to ever again reach the totality of spirit. Dust sniff. The dead angel glide. Forgotten ritual. Fuck this body. I’m going to live forever by refusing to let my body exist. Like air or god I will be invisible.