the work
personality: i do my best to scrub it off with the sweat and dead skin of a good day’s work, but some trace lingers, like the smell of chicken in my pee
personality: i do my best to scrub it off with the sweat and dead skin of a good day’s work, but some trace lingers, like the smell of chicken in my pee
night-lit city street car drives over plastic box dead-dinosaur-sound
sifting with my eyes the tall and seedy grass that’s overcome the garden i avoid the thought of how the world would look were i to make myself useful
habits harden into callouses. callouses have a way of softening when a habit’s thoroughly embodied. heart, persistent soft armature of a life
she said “you look like a tree to me, a tree with a suitcase” and i admire the trees tonight, dancing and handsome in the rain, my cardboard suitcase melting beside me