(no subject)

[exoticfruit]

the sinners are out on sunday
hold down the fabric lifted mid-thigh
wind sweeping up the roots on my head
faces crawl, the bugs run loose
big circles welcome you
and buildings push you foward
people unfolded
and all i did was laugh
but now the spooks under my eyelids
miss their warm hands
and tight eyes

i've been liking things.
ought to