Feel it out slow. Did you read it from the names on the back of my hand? When I was done did I lose sleep over it? Am I nothing but contempt? I don't know. If you knew what was going on and when you say 'it's the hardest thing I've ever done,” did we all lose what we had
gained? Are we nothing but the same? I hope so. Did you see the poise at which the gestures were made? Shaping limbs to form the loathings that our bodies make. Marking every inch, every crevice of my skin, hugging tightly to woven flesh, I felt it move. I speak of
nothing; no longer of what once was, no longer to the ones I love. Tell me, what peace did you find? Laying restless, I watched it take sleep, dormant and bleak. 'Let what's left be brought to death then bring it back to us.” Are we nothing but the same? I still feel it
setting in, setting out. It never fades away
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