the tall building that was once small
sheds its walls, its means of departure,
and self constructs.
There is a growing heap of trash along side it that my friend and her fiance stand on.
It isn't their heap of trash but they're happy on it, wearing little clothing and knowing the higher it gets the fewer chances to get down.
The dirty clothes are in the wash with something scaly and orange.
Is it a snake?
No.
A huge dying octopus
with tentacles stretching far out of the machine.
I get preoccupied.
The noodles I've been eating in my sideways bed have begun to come alive.
They shoot across the room.
They spawn tiny green noodle babies.
I panic and yank them out of my mouth for yards only to notice that those have not come alive.
My food is spoiled and I am hungry.
My former friend has "taken care" of the...
octopus problem.
A female celebrity knocks down our steps and demands we slide down splintered wood to enter and exit our own home.
I go to the mall.
It resembles the hotel casino I used to work in.
I remember that my boyfriend works in the mall and make a point of not going down that hallway.
My message to him saying that I'm going to the mall has not been delivered.
I have difficulty navigating without going down his hallway.
It fades away into day.
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