perfection. as it reels me in.
sounds sickly and remotely insecure.
i’m not sure about petty thoughts
or angry laments
but i’m fairly certain
your skin
with its faulty deeds
and master inception
is hurried
and longing
looking for me in sidewalk cracks
above gravestones
and under tree branches.
and now
there are wide expanses
languid movement
and insipid limbs
lusting after us
waiting
for new blood
waiting
for us
xoxo
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment