guts feel as if they're being pulled through
the world's smallest needle's eye, threading
me into this. my tongue, still sore from this morning's
scalding coffee, I am training it to lay still.
small things begin to grow, reminiscent of
swelling waves, they will crash upon my head.
arms up, kissing my own chest, I do not offer
much protection for myself or
anyone, for that matter.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 1:21 PM UTC
guts feel as if they're being pulled through
the world's smallest needle's eye, threading
me into this. my tongue, still sore from this morning's
scalding coffee, I am training it to lay still.
small things begin to grow, reminiscent of
swelling waves, they will crash upon my head.
arms up, kissing my own chest, I do not offer
much protection for myself or
anyone, for that matter.
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