To Survival (this is still a jungle)

One time, I wrote a song about a different universe.

“I’m hungry.”

We discuss his arrival.

He looks to his right and recants.  He checks the clock on his phone in proximal intervals.

We wake in separate parts of this universe, and I leave for my home.  A song about his birth shuffles on my phone and I sob in proximal intervals. 

A dog chews off her foot.

My stomach growls and I sweat dopamine until my lymph nodes are swollen. 

I cry and sweat until my lymph nodes stop swelling;

Until “I am no longer hungry”;

Until a noise of some ghost running upstairs can be heard;

Until I realize it’s the polyrhythmic washing machine tumbles in proximal intervals with my heart pumping fast as I can rush to the veterinarian.

Who will switch the laundry?

Where’s the other sock?

Some live on a line. I live in a drain.