Thud
Day stamps my face, makes me footprints, and now I want to cartwheel, to staccato.
Tonight the evening is thick ink spilt early, and I want to bleed into it. I want it to
bleed all over me: a blanket. Tonight, I am an artery and I want to gush freely. I want
you to slap my face until I am invincible, infinitely larger. I want to be a scream
released, to reverberate. I want to be your black boots coming down on unrelenting
ground: again and again and again.