insect jar

This feels like space between the walls, all missing teeth, seven legs in the insect jar. Just an alien feeling, numbness, the crash after the fix. A lot of my systems are a mess. I need to recover, at least. And I know I will, but I always allow myself just enough damage—six legs, and one writhing.

Still, I would never give a fuck about all these things in the end, if you came close enough—all naked skin, sweat, crazy fucks, a cure and kneecaps.

Forever fearing contact.

It was a blur. It was nice. It was nothing.

But you're beautiful tonight, and the stars are burning bright, and I give this curse to you, like there's nothing else to do, so let the purple sky explode, let it shower us with toads, let the scarlet river flood, let it drown us all in blood, tonight, I guess, I'm human, so thank you, for fighting, and having sex with me.

Fuck the scene, that does not distill your means.