#my9999verses

creases on my forehead arent breaking open crazing in the forefront being forced to call gashes in the rubble see my toiletries fall splaying across the floor of a barren room dirt on the glass builds up, mirrored too opaque behind the glass so im mirrored too stained and bright nothing grows here but mold blue light, spotlight, take account of my age sequestered, scattered, blighty, haggard domestic, needed, unsightly, dead detuned harps trip over tiles and falter down the horizon, little under a meter crawling unseen do they make me a pattern splayed across the floor of the barren room

brimming, hollow, brimming, hollow, brimming, hollow, brimming, hollow on and on and on and on and on and on and on from within and then to retract the skim of my finger has the spire of nurture and life breach verdant through my skin and then i have no skin at all to stray due down with the pace and point, to pace on the point at the origin, the wood, network, detritus, heat, and blood, who are made, make they call me into pulses, they creep, they grow, into me and out, am and are brimming and hollow