drinking wine and baking blueberry bagels, things are actually pretty sweet
so nervous about going to the doctors for stupid test results tomorrow that I can’t sleep. ughhhh.
a hand that reaches through my body, stuck halfway between the first and second rib delights in how I pulsate, how my veins embrace my blood and take it to my brain which then attempts to build a barricade. clench those bones, snap your fingers, throw bones in the stream to stop the pain. and any part of me that trickles to the floor won’t matter to the sea, that hand or me, at all.
worst day, so glad it’s over
I had a dream that the glass between us slipped but didn’t hit the floor, there was no crash, no crack, just no glass anymore. and the enclosure, being no longer enclosed, closed up forever. no more tickets, no more tapping, no more artificial weather. you took back your skin and your hair for yourself and you just ran. you ran like hell.