In a crowded apartment,
Someone continues to live behind a veil.
She turns blue at night, swimming through rooms like a hungry lantern fish
And when she finds her prey, she settles on the bed post
Dripping liquid gold from her fins.
She weaves stories, watches restless naked bodies
Turn bed sheets into balls and traces the point from where the streetlight falls gently on his chest
And takes little bends on her feet,
She smells her hair of shampoo and his mouth of cigarettes.
She turns red by dawn and weaker by the light.
She will smash against the wall, throb like a giant unkempt heart
And the second somebody steals a glance, a loud scream burns her belly.
She’s probably with you right now,
Just as we speak