of
giving
up
and wanting
more
bird-song taxing our
kitchenettes
ripped
with love overheads
enough of you,
mortice
the chest
without remedy
the world but rather
this world
throwing glottal
tendril blocked
i know where
every phone is
to give way,
the
non-priority
subjects
sing to
taskforce,
where margin
loses shape,
ungathered to
song
lustrous
you are
not
enough
on the solvent body
but what is the exist?
It will get worse
if the future
kisses
like the debtor
to the heartbreak
coin
thicker
than blood
but now
pumping
zeros in
what
is not is
you from you
are stealing,
I should be more
fucked up
than this horrible phone
