Pity is a universal suture. Nonallopathic inertia tuning out lung. Alkaline that doesn't stop at the carotids, raising steel-stalks around the off-white oak. In your lifetime you will eat eight spiders while you sleep. No carefully warmed dishrags to wash clean the mud. No fingerprints will take the blame for your wandering DNA. Shadows linger like dust bowls. Urine preserves your skin. Even in my memory you were a mirage. Hammer-blow the tape you wear so your glass skeleton will clatter delicately before the velvet intestines of a flesh museum's closed doors. I never cared if it hurt. Modify the pair-slash so I can pretend we were never connected. In time you'll learn to tell your shame apart from what it has been misdirectly christened. In time you'll know what it never was... and maybe then you will be forgiven.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
