(no subject)
Each new man is a kind of fresh egg that I throw on the floor in hopes of getting an omelette. Each more perfect than the last, and hungered for.
I get up, brush off, to finally stand on sturdy legs in the middle of the market, everyone zooming around me, to get more.
They were bad seeds, friends would say. Bedsheets pool around me, waters far from any shore.
I get up, brush off, to finally stand on sturdy legs in the middle of the market, everyone zooming around me, to get more.
They were bad seeds, friends would say. Bedsheets pool around me, waters far from any shore.