(no subject)
I can feel the works cranking, grinding against the rust. I can't shake this off.
I nicked my ankles in the shower this morning. I shave my legs for you, smell like mints for you, for the slim chance of wrapping our bodies like wires if our orbits cross, collide; if you bare teeth, release the tired, unused laugh that I'd love to exercise; if I could melt myself--yes, it's true, I believe in the power yet still the mirrors taste me with steady eyes.
I know not what this is or what this has become. I would like to break your body, mold you into a seed of mineral and bone, slip you right inside of me. Is this some reward, then? Some slap on the back, some good job son, some small forgotten detail that one girl just can't seem to get over? This goes nowhere. I draw lines, crisscross our paths like we are jumping blocks on a checkerboard. She says there are things I need to work out, like this disgust with the most naked parts, but I don't think that's it. Let's telephone Freud.
I nicked my ankles in the shower this morning. I shave my legs for you, smell like mints for you, for the slim chance of wrapping our bodies like wires if our orbits cross, collide; if you bare teeth, release the tired, unused laugh that I'd love to exercise; if I could melt myself--yes, it's true, I believe in the power yet still the mirrors taste me with steady eyes.
I know not what this is or what this has become. I would like to break your body, mold you into a seed of mineral and bone, slip you right inside of me. Is this some reward, then? Some slap on the back, some good job son, some small forgotten detail that one girl just can't seem to get over? This goes nowhere. I draw lines, crisscross our paths like we are jumping blocks on a checkerboard. She says there are things I need to work out, like this disgust with the most naked parts, but I don't think that's it. Let's telephone Freud.