june.
like it matters. nyugen. asteroid nights and cigarette voicemails. sell microwaves. listen to the acid bleeding thru your bones. perpetual. rollerskates solidifying your thighs. logographic lamped silhouettes of tall sky scrapers, scratch marks of ecstasy on your back. im gonna —
all girls are the same. sun stuck in a permanent dreamlike phase, half struggling against mother nature's cruel wooden spoon and half unconscious from the beating. the day beats down, humid, dripping in spinal fluid and sweaty blood. i wear a sun hat, a sundress, a badge of secrecy, a wicker basket containing my flesh and my purse of skin.
