what does it say about me that i think hunger is what angels sound like? lineless and with great aching. and what does it say about me that i feel like i could just pull my pelvis bone from my hip and watch it crumble in my hands? i couldn't sleep so i traced my bones, i couldn't sleep so i felt my gums, (my skins got a great story that no onell ever read fitting, i guess - i've yet to be anything but wasted potential.) but, despite everything, there is something comforting about the lie of a body. something human in me yet. what do i want the answer to be when i feel my chest and wonder where my ribs came from? it was an early lesson that one must give up ribs to be worthy of love.