lying in our bed in a wet towel awaiting your arrival— just wanting you to want me— every part of me for one solid hour
my clock— synced mere seconds past yours, carves a great chasm we fail— to match everything at
just never quite knowing how to be a person— my formative years wrecked by white-out graffiti a brief glimpse of that
weepy, faraway freak under imaginary interrogation lights— they sear into clandestine melancholy she has tried so hard to keep it c…
there’s something in the air that speaks to the piercing rain - some giant, flailing wisp of inter… the dazzling electroshock of occas… sprinting spears -
a strong wind wails beyond my window - it cracks the shutters and splits the screen it tears at my roots
a deep chill delving straight to bone fragmented shadows become full figures - long and lithe,