What colors do you come in?

The very existence of their being taught me how to pray godlessly.
Plateaus became mountains and for moments I could teleport.
Drinking from farm wells, fences made of thick stone.
Wine in the grass and music on stage.

Sometimes it’s safe to bask in illusion.
Sometimes the illusion is safe to love.

One sided and selfish. The emotional premature ejaculate.

Those cold lands never seemed more like home, maybe if only in a Bizzaro episode.

All pistils, all stamens, all pollination.

Of course he comes in the spring…
Because he hasn’t come all winter.

Let’s name your testicles after flowers.
Maybe I can get you drunk off Sake and we’ll tattoo them.
Oh Daisy! Oh Daffodil!
I can even scream them for you in four languages, a pristine color of guttural.

No matter how you invent it, my technology fades from you.
You’ve mapped my lands.
Molded them even.
Played god to your real doll. Picked the breast size and all.

They all have mouths.
Some, just more fuckable than the rest.

Next time, design accordingly.