The hairs on my arms stand on end, the flesh beneath, puckered, goosebumped, reminding me of a plucked hen. It makes me shudder. Disgusted, I turn away. I turn away to famine and ravaged bones. They jab me in the side, forcing me to acknoledge their stark appearance. I am standing on the asphalt, torn, white and bleeding. Is it wrong to say I am waiting for her? Is it wrong to lust for her noise, her breath- rough and ragged, heavy in my ear? I am enfolded, arms outstreched. I am enfolded in her light. "She unfastened the strings and fruit erupted."
*The part in quotations is from a Patti Smith poem my roomie read to me
*The part in quotations is from a Patti Smith poem my roomie read to me
so umm
you are like,
totally hot
when are you gonna do a set??