Something

An envelope stained with four leaf clover juice
staircase wrapped around an old lady's
legs with varicose veins, and I tilt my head.
Why did my glasses have to break, they
hurt so bad like a sting from a wasp,
I break my fall on the staircase, with stilts
so long that I can't see past the microscope
with daisies underneath it that I long for more
paste to see the breath of the green organism underneath
breathing photosythesis and I am dying
in a coffin I did not make but I buried inside
her veins, inside her mouth. She is kissing me, twisting
the staircase, like a zipper, ripping open her suitcase,
unveiling what the four leaf clover will win her
in the jackpot. But I am dying I am trying, I am breathing
the sun's rays, but I said I am dying I am trying, I am
swimming in her legs, swimming up
and down the staircase, until the blood and the goo
just chokes me and makes me mildly high and sleepy.
I just want air I want to see, something that isn't painful.