You are there, our activity is always different. I hurt you and you hurt me back. My teeth start to get weak and wiggle in my face. Then one-by-one my molars start to fall out. Until nothing is left, not even you. Only me, with my mouth, full of bloody goo.
YOU ARE READING
Into the Wood
PoetryA book of Poems, nonsense, and incoherent ramblings of a man trapped in his own mind.
