hungry for thorns, or control? i've let the forest run right through me and there's music in my ears or violence. i need the control, that i know these things and they are done. i make the thorns. i make even an hour of calm. two spaces, can't you see? or compiling lists. or paperwork and pleas. or throwing up my skin. or shaving my bones down.

but all i can taste is the letters filling their slots. even if it's just ghosts.

even if it's just loneliness, even if it's just alone. and something stands before you and you can't tell the truth. i should sink my teeth in. but i'm only snakes.