Winter #6

My body is soft like the smell of amber, but I strain to thin it into nothing. Everyone wishes to be nothing, so thin, so happy and rid of reflection, rid of harm, thin and tight and precise like the needle. But my body is fluid, and unfastened, and chaos of the flesh, and it is stronger than my intentions to tear it from its liberty.

& The Dirt

as in I’m scared
not by how much I need,

but by how much I’m prepared
to wreck to make it