mouth spit question asking for a date, it says,
can you throw up on my grave?
shedding part of us inside that makes us puke
whilst our fingerprints are embraced.
can we count our scars?
uncovering the dried blood of its mystery,
rehearsing each secret from the series of history.
until our heart clasp.
until eyes learned to shut.
until mind remembered to sush.
i mean, i am humbly asking for a date.
let me say.
can you own me?
can you own me?
can you own me?
can you own me?
can you own me?
can you own me?
can you own me?
