#everything's cyclical

[suggestingsuggestions]

I think I split my lip again One too many fistfights with gravity The slow simmer of living, summer Breathing in and out again tinged with iron

I don’t understand this, listlessness The desire to be anything but How dare you tell me not to be angry How dare you say I’m too old for this

Stitch me back up. Go ahead. No one’s work so far has survived Not these prying fingers Or this switchblade tongue

What’s the point of all this If we aren’t who we want to be Nothing, needing Nothing, needing Something Maybe both or neither all wrapped in a pulse

Swallowing blood, swallowing rage, swallowing silence

OUTPATIENT ENDEAVOR // 0097