tok -
i have none
you've seen things
they stand as air and only dance coincidence
i am void of air
my lungs beg please!
my mind begs
more!
distaste!
distrust!
what is it all!
it is a play
and play with vigor and strife!
display agony on a sequined veil!!
spinning sorrow for the drooping bleeders
PRAISE THE BLOOD!
YOU SPILL IT FOR US!
they'll go home feeling
SATIATE!
-for the ride-
though in bed
alone again.
again
again
ready to wake again
to a morning
from a lovely dream
of a boy that could've loved them
-this century spills our blood the color and scent
the juice of rotted coriander
nottok.
i mean more
but these words prevail
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