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I am soupy mud-lukewarm rain. I am art rarely born in *** belonging. gender. identity. I am being more hazardous than a heartthrob, commitments which don’t owe. I am seemingly flawed acrobats where wars and rifts give purest windows into- I am diversity, unbiased observation without opinion This body is a cave to personal Aboriginality. With similar struggles, this body is February  funerals Stumbling drunk Faulty wires Silence singing This body is masculinity sitting as knobs on my chest. 10 month T shot showing no faith in God likely hates me like This Body Is a two week alcoholic. I am some body. A temporary palace worthy of worshipping past open hours of service, I am this breath inside a masterpiece, losing pace and time of directions. I am skeletal, with you growing through rainfalls I want you to learn to dance with me I am putting on a face ‘pretty’ is a word fit to little girl’s dresses and marmalade eyes I am black lightning down her classroom arms. This feeling is ‘I think I want to wear makeup’ Who I can be Who can I be? Who was I This feeling is Who I was. Bogged down and banking on jawline horizons never seen, This feeling is what it is. This feeling is multiplying hearts for many individuals. This body is I think I’m aro ace all the way. I am thought to be nothing more than your constant in a dream.
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Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
I'm A Body That's Feeling This
I am soupy mud-lukewarm rain. I am art rarely born in *** belonging. gender. identity. I am being more hazardous than a heartthrob, commitments which don’t owe. I am seemingly flawed acrobats where wars and rifts give purest windows into- I am diversity, unbiased observation without opinion This body is a cave to personal Aboriginality. With similar struggles, this body is February  funerals Stumbling drunk Faulty wires Silence singing This body is masculinity sitting as knobs on my chest. 10 month T shot showing no faith in God likely hates me like This Body Is a two week alcoholic. I am some body. A temporary palace worthy of worshipping past open hours of service, I am this breath inside a masterpiece, losing pace and time of directions. I am skeletal, with you growing through rainfalls I want you to learn to dance with me I am putting on a face ‘pretty’ is a word fit to little girl’s dresses and marmalade eyes I am black lightning down her classroom arms. This feeling is ‘I think I want to wear makeup’ Who I can be Who can I be? Who was I This feeling is Who I was. Bogged down and banking on jawline horizons never seen, This feeling is what it is. This feeling is multiplying hearts for many individuals. This body is I think I’m aro ace all the way. I am thought to be nothing more than your constant in a dream.
httphellopoetryscruffy-boy
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httphellopoetryscruffy-boy
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
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