lies like a pretty boy’s hands

Smear the brownie under the bower’s knee to sweeten the pain of the stance. My elbows are spikes, nailing me flat into reality, hinging me up and down like a doll flailing in dance. Are we real? My hips hold the secrets to the universe, swaying when I waltz, causing lurches of gravity on aContinue reading “lies like a pretty boy’s hands”