look down when im writing like there's blood on my hand
life touchss my shoulder in the absence of death
muss be dripping from the nostril from its bobbing crystal head
i know its because i pulled out yellow flowers from spaces they left
stop beggin u remember he says to a doe shaking water from her chin
into your hands put them into your hands i put it into your hand
i hope u understand this that even tho they are full
they are as good as dead //flashing half eaten hearts off a cold gluttonous god// wrapped in a moth eaten blanket
mine was never open enough to be filled with regrets i know
that all we ever meant is what is left
i know that all i know to dipsense is death
ive been worming into and undergoing more than a modicum of stress
pale birds still sleep when they bleed out their pigment
i know because i watch them out my window
when the moon lifts its head
they plead with the weather thru crowding lachrymal stems
I FEEL SO BAD cuz god its so obnoxious
when he beats his barbaric chest
then pleads and cries like a ***** when he cant hold his breath
where was the last time u felt alive its not next to
or even around me who has given you life
even tho i never mean it even tho you always see it
im a creature with eyes i feed on unbelieving
finding every cross-way to die