Maybe we forfeit too easily
I find
My nails
Clinging to the essence of it
Godsick
Wound-licking
Clean open and fresh
My skin
A hand-cranked music box
As long as I can swim
My limbs to the lullaby
Culling morose notes
Out of the wormholes
Punched still
Sticking
To the air in the room
Injuries sung far
From the heart of us
Crushed and dusty
Somewhere
Over the equator
The sun is rising on
Some maddening dream
Plucked for you to keep
I conclude with the day-fade
Maybe you’ll remember me
Wrapped tight
Folding closed
🎨/📷 by Jesse Kanda, unknown title, unknown date