Lynch mob wet dreams
Stained sheets mark ecstasy of hate
Words are what makes my fingers jump rhythmic on these keys
Words E X P A N D
and
(contract)
Words are what made tears break wet down to my neck
When you said
"I
feel
nothing."
These words bend to fit the context
incontextincontext
The pariah has nothing to carry him
He died in a box
Transcontinental flights canceled
Trepidation of abandonment keeps us all from sleeping
At what time did all this living turn to dying?