Sand blanches against my skin
and protects me from your sunrise
entropy,
the lack of everything
culminating in disaster.

Blotchy skin and red eyes,
you could tell when you glanced
at her jaw bone,
and you muttered a curse
that sent time spiraling
and made no sense.

Someone reacted,
made you a puppet,
caught your strings and handled
broken eggs
as though they were whole.

Not me—
I know better.
Plus your antics make me laugh.