On starfish

I dreamt of a starfish, fossilized Chalk Pimples of high school but no pimple patches Next to coffee, cold brew I think, smelled like rose and jungles that it was promised to come from. I was promised to come from the present, The past as you are reading. who do we pray to how do we live without a god God god deity master god god god Who is listening to us as we write as we Stand in running shower water drowned in red tiles as we write as we cuss! Cuss cuss cuss! Words are spells. Who made the contract I ask, Who built this world. That was a rhetorical question in case you were wondering because there must be a god god god deity dressed in Evergreen like Anubis With bleeding heart perky ears like A lustful gluttonous pet He oversees the weighing of hearts of time and their mummification into words and guides them into their afterlife. I said to the starfish and it kept hopping down the black and white stairs along the telephone line. All to answer the question of why do I write Which She asked when dressed in black satin night gown wine glass shadow of hieroglyphical moon she traced the undercurve of her Pillow it’s seeping with dreams she hummed as she looked straight Into My eyes and Took a sip of her wine full plump lips oh to be pretty! I want to stick diamonds on her Exactly like how I write how I mummify How I weigh a starfish Her limb Her black satin night gown.