I guess I was never the person who always stays in memories. It's as if I was and am just a fly in the damp corner of other people's memories, buzzing and biting at their presence, drinking gallons of those and these blood and saying "yummy" while the rest of them slam it against the wall so that all of its blood spills out of its dirty belly.
YOU ARE READING
The Fig Tree
PoesiaA series of a teenager's mental secretions, living through the distorting lenses of a bell jar. Inspired by Sylvia Plath.
