(Untitled)

[bopbopxo]

we are full of the fury of what we would have given away and we are flooded. we are overflowing devotion, teeth like gates lips spitting back sacrifice like sacrament and we are flooded. half-aware under the fluorescent hum. and we are examined, our certainty drug-dulled with snow and sleep (what we all would have given for more of your time

Comments

[argithness]

how this FEELS, it doesn't speak cliches, it feels like a time
it feels like the fills between the whitenoise, the drum solos between a coltrane solo
it feels curious and flawless
it reads like this larkin poem i once read i've since lost, but it's there, the feel.

HOW DOES SHE DO IT? they'll ask
never tell them!