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/rachel lederer

conspiracy

i’ll lie about it but i think that if i count to 30 and a car doesn’t pass by a bird flies into the window at 15 and

in empty despite i search how to kill what makes us idle how to silence what makes

an old woman on a cloudy day who swears to you she has never seen anything so

webs stretch over corners alive because they haven’t once been touched – i am halfway out the

feeling sick with familiarity in cities i’ve never been, like nothing is ever ever new or

a fan circulates indoor air and i let it lazy with love for what isn’t

venus’ flower basket

water can be sharp on the dawning of the shock glass spined sponges housing lovers til they’re locked

light washing over surfaces that don’t bother to talk to their insides – but i get it i think they are just

waiting on the mountains to collapse under their dust patterns that slow it down a reason to have thumbs

sink into an ocean that you have never seen drown a pretty melody bury its epiphany

when you’re tired of yourself you can be tired of

Rachel Lederer is a writer living in New York City.

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