c.a.v.i.t.y
I’ll cut it from my chest
I’ll cut it from my chest and grab quickly at gravel, sand, pebbles and there will be nothing pretty in the way I pack in every crevice.
I’ll cut it from my chest and with it I will gasp out the only true breath, light and unburdened, I will ever know. Before was before
and then will be air filtered through fine filament packed deep packed thorough, packed so that nothing may ever grow there again.
It will be gritty. From the sand, from the dirt amongst the gravel and the half crushed bugs beneath pebbles, all caked in and around my finger nails.
And no,
I won’t wrap it,
It will be placed in front of you.
Where you lay, half passed out on the floor,
It’s yours to keep
Its just getting too heavy, that’s all
For this chest
