11

did you see that splashdown? yeah, the moon fucks, and we shouldn't be shy about it. no one can really spell a proper romp. text tries, speech gets too thick. working around gravity is and isn't a dance. you cannot improvise grace in someone's else's lung capacity. you cannot bottom every wife. you can attempt to sort your animal sounds by cord vibration but their performative rolling will always tell the whole truth of you. there at the moon's origin you really let it growl, you eye your luck. the trick to your sobriety is you only drink roundness, you do this one day at a time. the bed is woven dandelion in a tree root frame ejected into space when the spring bulbs blew.
                                                 i aim to get my heart as dirty as possible
                                                                           so i begin with clean hands. have you ever had the tide trace you? have you considered how knots can be ornamental? have you taken tight loops to adorn you? a spiral is a way to get the light around a delicate shape. i thought this was a room but it is a landscape, it fills and empties uninterrupted. somewhere, my early curiosity remains intact, i just have to grow a little taller to pull it to the front of me. oh, breathing is a circle. a knot is also a circle. the dark is part of a circle. i hope this clears things up.