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tiny pieces, forgotten names but memorized faces. i'll carve you back into the figure you were meant to be.
gradually, these lamentations condensed into a large mass, until finally they metamorphosed into something completely different.
the pungency of goat shit and week old blood fermenting across street corners
a sheared off hip, and thin lips stitched shut to drown out any unnecessary condemnations
putting a candle to your figure does not put you in dismay like subtle ruin
desperate lacerations of overgrown fingernails, bites from under-developed canines
smell of fallen rain on concrete too hot to walk on, a static mind with a big smile from the burning sensation
your filthy bulbous face, and the tongue you point towards me from between your yellow teeth in dismissal
a vague resentment and a vague feeling of guilt both of which resonate together to ensure neither feels right
a self-contained mind interrupted by a spray of scalding water
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