my lips are sewn shut with a rusty needle and your hair-- the sharp twine that keeps me from spilling open. (contents under great pressure). what would happen if I did? hair can burn and shrivel the caustic ash from a cigarette and the prying of my small fingers. but if I were to open wide there would be no sound Just rivets of tar and streaky blood ocean and the seeds from the strawberry patch. stuck in this glass box with no drain I become the girl in the well the ***** of babylon judas' kiss.