What would you like? I'd like my money's worth.
Try explaining a life bundled in episodes of this --
swallowing mud, swallowing glass, the smell of blood
on the first four knuckles.
We pull our boots on with both hands
but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do
is stand on the curb and say Sorry
about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.




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 ART BY UTSUHA MOON / BASE BY SILH    / / on a permanent semi-hiatus

the fatal drop