Let us tell our stories in sour milk and rotted meat. Let us climb into our empty skins and pull on the broken zippers.
tugging on the fractions. giving away all the orphaned pieces.
we're always assembling ourselves. even as our world is collapsing. .
Let us scream at the staircase as it dares us to climb. Playing with the severed switches as we stomp through the shattered bulbs.
we're only collecting footsteps as we look in the windows. we're all too certain as we bang on the doors that won't let us in.
that there is proof in our conviction.
we're only selling the poisons we've accumulated.
the softest corners of the storm letting us believe its over.
the end comes softly.
in a long series of strangers.
Post a Comment