up over the queasy glossed acre of scrub pine ‘hind your house through the glass of the sliding door it passes now without sound leave my clothes in a heap on the floor collapse into bed the world’s dead lid sagging green-black and pregnant
still it’s a fatuous wish to be blank and brand-new noticing motion in this sick and sprawling splendor
spilling guts motes were clouds in spokes of shivering sun the life to come, the life to come you snorted up an orgasm times twenty then one day you can’t turn the shower on
look down all your birthmarks and scars are gone skin pink and virgin a burn victim what you sloughed off found cold in your bed and mourned
before ever trying weed before the blind opioid glow he loved his secret family
and what a pain hiding dilation unnatural brightness from the corner store clerk who never looked upTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
