The Unknown, In Words
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he tears through the throat of her enemieswhen the leather of his lust is tugged upon,freshly wetted, and what a delicious catastrophehis love has turned out to be!their twisting limbs are scathed by the same nettlethat harried their footsteps,but how tantalisingly beastly it is whenshe grabs his jaw and smolders,rolling souls from her tongue.the orchestra
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the distinction of women is wide.this morning, a woman panicking came outside, crying.she had bootlegged for some girls on the eleventh floor. they tried to take her phone and her wallet. my heart screams murder.this morning, I got in an uber to go to work. it was a woman driving, a rarity itself.red leather seats,
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gull-gray waves and salted shorelinesthe bay of the english, anchors weighedalong the severed lines of blood ishistorycrawling art, sprawling armschilly walls and chilled bones, wrapped inrags curling smoke from parted lips as trafficlumbers bywaiting for a bus that apologizes whenclosed(but never when it’s late, hm)a culture so rich, it’s near religious.
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I am disconnected from the stars, struggling to breath through a riptide that wishes, insists, I drop my shade beyond the reach of Everything and subsist on weak milk and weathered leather until I am deposited before the End. My heart has been called too heavy, too full all of me too much for all
the baleful primal 