It sounded like a rock
hitting the flat hard bottom.
And so my heart felt.
Flat hard bottomed.
Emptied of its contents.
The blinking star and the touching hand,
never a real thing.
Oh and I thought
I could have been looking into
the horizon of a mirror.
I am no longer confident,
but bound to the hazy outline.
What a ******* crash of the head
So alone, and still I think:
He’s probably good with numbers.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 11:13 AM UTC
It sounded like a rock
hitting the flat hard bottom.
And so my heart felt.
Flat hard bottomed.
Emptied of its contents.
The blinking star and the touching hand,
never a real thing.
Oh and I thought
I could have been looking into
the horizon of a mirror.
I am no longer confident,
but bound to the hazy outline.
What a ******* crash of the head
So alone, and still I think:
He’s probably good with numbers.
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