arranging them in patterns,
hanging them out in the ether,
waiting for the ink to dry.
smashed the pin ground it into my skin graffitied slurs like "FAT COW" and "SLAG" across my back needled them in with balled fist then kissed me with that filthy mouth until you were reduced to nothing more than a sentient fuck buddy blowing back wasted sentiment to someone experimenting on a knife edge but in no way cut out to remain on it
Measured Response everything is unraveling not slowly stitch by stitch but all in one go like an almighty fucking earthquake way off the richter scale propelling shards in no pre-ordained direction scattered in bits and I wish you would administer a measured response slip me back into my skin one last time