by the dirty window i sit to watch people survivethere is no pool with living watersno eternal flamesperhaps a rancid puddleradiation fuming throughand a block away chalk linesin the fetal positionmy ego dies at the end of the morningthere is a warm toxicityin their eyeswe all beg in different waysmy lips half ass parted in […]

what does it mean? – Marisela Brazfield