Eggshells that loose from ceilings
Onto hardness and truth
Reeling, Rampant like mirth,
Rampant as tea soothes the fractured binds, of I cannot stand tall. the flavor of I don't think that I could anguish more, reminds me loosely of the **** scent of nothing is real, or matters. I think for that I'll have to shatter, sitting back again on haunches, swollen.