inches

Can’t sleep, came down, it’s cold out. 

I keep thinking that I can put things down here in a way that will work me through. 

I am head over feet. 

Lips chapped lost it’s already dark and I left my lighter in your car. 

I’ll put another layer on and walk back. I have a pair of pliers they’re rusty you can pull these teeth out one by one it’s

Just how you like it. 

Leaves bruises. 

I want to take it to the next level, like this doesn’t hurt enough. 

I hold the fire to the palm of my hand I hand you the pliers and grin. 

You beat your fists against my blank wall until your hands break, you float on your back down the river. 

If I had an aura you bled all over it, at least left spit. 

There is a cold ocean up against this spine and my pelvic bone. It stretches out in one direction past the end and you float in. 

My veins and fat and skull are stained with you. 

So I let myself bleach in the sun but I still have your story. 

I smell like the first song you ever heard where the pitch was just right. That belly blossom of your wavelength in the world.

You bite down again

 and again.  

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