moonlight bright shines sometimes on my ideas, but when i get too high off my own stench i remember to let go, let go of strangers’ smiles and fleshy fingers and thoughts i can never call my own.
words come out my mouth in spirals as i wonder whether i’ve gone mad, but some words sting like candy. if i could i’d tie them tight around my adam’s apple and take a dive, because no one says an honest end can’t be sweet -
not that i care.
crises are only fun when there’s more at stake than your livelihood.