sometimes i worry that i keep falling into a rapturous seduction with strange women i do not actually know, and will probably never know, though i feel like what i do know of them is more important, and hides inside my dreams, where i am kept company by their own dreams, or fantasies, or nightmares — at this point those distinctions do not function. i worry i am being pulled out of the world with reveries of imagined scents, dream-flesh, secret chambers meant only for narcotic rituals performed with bone-trumpets, temple bells and poisoned oscillators. sometimes i think it’s good, it is a better place (the way people say “he’s gone to a better place), and sometimes i just don’t know. whiskey, vetiver, kohl, opium, deep musk, honey, gunpowder, hashish, sweat. that is how i know you.