Empty Oceans
Word As a Virus
its pulling apart at the seams. the openness of the sky. the nakedness of the trees. it is the reality i can not face with eyes open. drenched in this chemical. a process that has become my burning left arm. i see the crosses. they comfort me. i see the crosses... when syringes tease me and leave their mark. trails that i didnt want. but somehow i am stuck with them.