too much permission

/ my conversation with god
do i know you?
don't rape me.











And what I meant by that last post was the skeleton precipice hanging upside, in a coffee filter. It's filtering, dripping skyward in a walk-in closet that doubles as a coffin. The skeleton arm reaches into the mendula oblongata and points to a medical chart that will only get your red, white, and blue blood pumping into a tire. The tire turns the nation to the next page and it's a full feature of your flowing electricity. It's shocking and revolting, and the children are molting their skin. And it's revolting.

Every third Thursday I fall into that cycle
It's give and take

Someday it'll crack