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#399768 [+0] 17.10.2020 13:15:11 Ilmianna
The Rhymers Carapace

Reason for driving has always been the scenery.

Bone clad and uttered sorcery, bound under the earth.

White, oh so white, you see. I see.

My left foot, a calloused and ashen heel.

I peel the dead skin.

It all becomes undone. My foot turns to dust as I scratch away.

In a bed laughing, but not for long. I celebrate this moment.

Breath in the binary.

You and me, grasping hand, bound in wonder, the mirth.

Flaking calves, skin like folds of dried dough.

What is hap...

I marvel as the torn sheets turn to pictures. They are not slippery when wet.

Must be all in my mind

And I gather them on crows (sic) for all to see.

Still locking the door behind me.

Closing the scab.

"I am no one." - Patrick Flannery
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