it split my lip // I will always be a little bit in love with you… too
just a little bit // more and we would witness the shadows of
some sort of situation alienated // a surplus fairytale of a couple of normative years
“not all men,” “Hover | Fly” and “Comrades and Cotton Sheets”
I dig for shelter
in a homespun
endometrial layer
each new moon
like the first rain
each crimson drop
seething…