i woke up this morning with disgust and the ghost of you in my throat, threatening to send me down the gutter. it feels more tangible than the warmth radiating off your skin when you sat next to me. the air is thick and i bite it (i hope you breathe the same air). if only i could make venus cry and give birth to a catharsis, stronger than the family that binds you. here babe, wade through the rotting pain of existence and get over the carbon accumulation in your lungs, i found a timeless recipe on how to carve love into ribcages! and it ain't permanent! let me make you catch fire in the moonlight and turn you into an ante meridian poet's muse (a verbal regurgitation so i can momentarily forget that i hate myself)
YOU ARE READING
MENTAL FLOSS
PoetryTHE THIRD MOST IMPORTANT STEP, MENTAL FLOSS TO KEEP THE DECAY AT PAR.
