what happens when all you can do is spit poetry?
it's like breathing fire, the way we circle one another. I exist in my head far more than you exist in yours. I can curl my lip because I have seen the way the breeze heads that way in search of a better pastime. Egocentricism coils around my wrist like a dying serpent and of course I have to step forward, are you mad?
today will be forgotten.
