subjected to
laundry rattles in the background. the hum of electricity. the sound of processing numbers. the ache in my shoulder. the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach that bleeds through my veins. toxins.
im waiting for something. i dont know what it is, but i can feel myself waiting.
Pushing through the corridor, a million faces line up to form
a line that spills out through the door
red, flowing, out the door
gravity pulls the hostage down, binding ties to the earth
roots pull scavanged leaves off the sea
settling beneath my feet
into a pit of fire, that burns the sins off of everyone.
these words wear masks.
im waiting for something. i dont know what it is, but i can feel myself waiting.
Pushing through the corridor, a million faces line up to form
a line that spills out through the door
red, flowing, out the door
gravity pulls the hostage down, binding ties to the earth
roots pull scavanged leaves off the sea
settling beneath my feet
into a pit of fire, that burns the sins off of everyone.
these words wear masks.