Kōzetsu — V

i’ve met myself in tiny throbbing curves, i’ve bent my spine past no return and back and bored and back again: you make me foam at the mouth, you funeral pyre you. i go howling unchecked and i persevere as i stare into the flames in your (you’re a killer you are)

a satellite diagnosis, you’re impending and i’m the best man for the job: a trademark crisscrossing fill. i could be tamed by your pavement, we tell ourselves. there are no collars for water, still we tell ourselves. tell then of this torture, still. (how can i be sure?)

we have steady hands but we’ve no aim. 
we have steady hands but we’ve no aim.
we have steady hands but we’ve no aim.
(i just am i just am)

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated mattheus m.’s story.