lying at the bottom of a bottle, the sun rises on a blue morning
in my room where only dark thoughts are forming
next to me tissues drip, my moldy brain heavy as brine,
each tissue whispering that no flesh is mine.
i am the secret gods will not name
and only foids are to blame.
if only i could just vanish like this.
in my room where only dark thoughts are forming
next to me tissues drip, my moldy brain heavy as brine,
each tissue whispering that no flesh is mine.
i am the secret gods will not name
and only foids are to blame.
if only i could just vanish like this.
