Feeding Fingers
i am erasing doors
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A growing chorus of spores
Like shedding skin pried from the numb and
In them pain and clinical routines and scars
Hour hands slice open people then
Leave them bright, shy hopes for sequels and
Rows of leaders need our meat for their
Broken little drum
Force feed more than life could
My collection of dry eyes should
See through petaled nights of loss that share
A home inside of my heart
There unsetlled like every place I haunt
And you're building more
Force feed more than life could my collection of dry eyes should
See through petaled nights of loss that share
A home inside of my heart
Written in pencil like everything I want
And I'm erasing doors