promised to be the last stable stabbing. i changed the title to include
your uncapitalistic reality, of where motor skills are flavorless, slanted
salt.
the water will heal this wound and carry your formula across Jupiter's
affair. where the moon shone brighter
than my skin.
wounded affairs and a portrait of
drugs. released all these t's and so
i have removed all the walls and cupboards in my body to let
you flow in and through and
allow my tears to smile.
