Tue 23 Dec
∞ Permalink
Scarling faces made as I turn to go & and you turn to f(l)ight.
Plugging my eyes, setting this stage that we can’t engage; so we cut all ties by candlelight. Another deep depression—calm before, storm’s shaking in our heart. We sacrifice, we pay a price: all these words—unsaid, drink to forget—name’s written in snow. Iced anxieties—purging these: last meals—with this secret we can’t know.
(expanded from: tiny-poemadoes)
