listen to the tiny drips of anxiety seeping relentlessly from my tiny thoughts that create something but not anything real but more of a lifeline
speed along the little highways of deep resonation, depth around a pool of ever shrinking possibilities that widen this perception into a space that easily fits on the pin of a head
bottom out the corresponding virtue of a magical giant who resides in my mouth
he will not expunge the virtue of his own brilliantly flying bullet
I am a word that drips from my heart without the mindless virtue of knowing a soul exists there
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