is it safe now – my wormish excerpts form a towering ledger and urge me, impressively (in them are my hallowed thoughts,
unable to make corpses out of them, I petted them instead, calling their nature blessed and their souls just – see, they are happy)
words blending with red blood cells, I hunger for them – must cut off my very supply of oxygen to find their brutish squall choked,
and how could I? I am to love myself.
perhaps I have always been torn in two, but I seek her friendship like the sanctification of a godly ruler, and she lovingly cups my childish notions
in her ghostly hands; wise, when she talks, I pretend to be silent
walk with me now, the ostracized. you’re not apart from me.