I’d lose everything if I had to go back and start again. A failure repeating age three at 27. The thickness of the fog rolling into the undercurrent of meaningless passerbys. A glimpse of a fumble from a train. The children as what we derive the meaning of life.
I was once an animal with two horns and no spine. I crawled out of the earth on two weights attached to my arms. Escaped from the prison where we trudged through the cold, soulless streets. Underneath this skin there is a human heart. I was once an animal pleading from the rooftops of older men.
In these strange shoes, I tore a hole into myself. Buried my bad blood beneath the floorboards of the apartment. Strangers reaching for medicine between the space of two lines of poetry. Glances from the street. Where the end reaches the beginning. A threat to all living beings.
With your mouth, I kissed lips made of gold. A heart made from the fibers of broken airplanes. I kissed to feel something.