the last bit hooked me the hardest: "your words mean

nothing

and go unread whlie he burns his flesh

and dives for thighs and

you sit crooked, five am,

reading idioms and cursing your palm's

lying lines."

i'm amazed at the way you can translate your thoughts into organized words - the stream of consciousness you have is always beautiful, yet at the same time, always tragic. never stop, ash.