ear on my anger
if the kettle starts to boil
I head towards the stove
- Gary Hunter
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See Alllike doll plastic the face shines eyes sealed the body posture is not sleep fully clothed it lies at attention in the perfect receptacle for unmotivated discharge so many ways to read death no trans
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no such thing as a botched attempt to love its splendor is its awkwardness its stock rises with a stumble it rattles the consciousness of routine makes it strangely fresh and first-time even its failu
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I can almost see your soft spots we all have them like a newborn’s but no longer physical hidden on your infant body of emotion yielding vulnerable naked untouched the innocent areas oh don’t
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