the black tar honey seeps in through my walls and the cracks in my floorboards, but my room is dark so i don't notice it much. the blanket that covers my windows is tact in with razor blades, i haven't seen the sky in months. have you forgotten how we used to open our hearts through our flesh and fall from trees like leaves? the coffee that was sweeter than blood, now gets served black in a chipped mug. my lips are cut but my wine glass is full, i'm trying to re-count the stars. it's so cold in here i can see my breath but it feels like mint against my sheets, my pillow knotted my hair again i haven't left in a week.
spinning gold or a spinning room right before you black out when it gets cold at dusk and the blue sinks in like a breeze block in the sea or the depression at the base of your spine. the door is unhinged, but just at the top it can still be slammed but only on my fingers. they all break but i knew i could feel something