the moments after a sunset taste like peach rings,
and arsenic.

eyes of gunmetal,
i find,
are the most attractive.
because you can find yourself in them,
see what you've become.

I've taken to fading to mist,
it's a new talent for me,
i want to become one with the air,
to twist away into the colors,
red orange pink,
the colors.

peach rings always reminded me of better times,
of fifty-cent allowances,
and a group of neighbors who rode electric blue razor scooters and bright pink polly pocket bikes.

a sunset tastes like better times,
like you're plunging headfirst into something unknown,
and coming with you is that taste of artificial peach that lingers on your taste buds like a guest that won't leave.

arsenic i don't know so well,
it's something new i'm trying.
the boys who hang out in the liquor aisle at the piggly wiggly told me that it cured over-sentimentality,
so i chugged a whole bottle.

when you drink poison,
you don't notice until it's too late.
what people don't warn you about poison is that it's sweet,
and the fire in your veins is power,
and once you drink it there's no going back.

sunsets start a queue of unknowns,
of things that roam in the night,
of poison lips,
and devil smiles.
of arsenic flavored lullabies.

they never did sell arsenic and peach rings in the same aisle.