i’ve been thinking about that street a lot. how to get there? how did it happen? why did you do it? was I the only one? how can you even sleep? who was he? did it even happen? after all these years it just gets worse.. fingers bruising, hours slipping, filthy, rag doll, helpless, tongue tied, convulsing. gazing through unconditional eyes. the part that really gets to me is.. what if i liked it? what if i want it again? it makes my stomach feel full of worms. standing on the side of the street. teeth smashed out, but i kept them in my mouth. it all gets little fuzzy sometimes. but i know it’s time to move on. the swaying of reopening wounds.. cutting deeper, can’t feel a thing. crawling in the gash, gnashing for more blood.. i swear if I knew where you were.. my thumbs deep in your eyes. i’m done with just thinking about.. i need to lie down, i’m sorry.. i’m stuck on the ground. bathing in your gaze. watching stars through watery eyes. in the first time ever, i feel like i’m in full bloom.
