oh to be a stalk of grass caring of nothing but how the wind feels on your stems and dance Dance like its your one purpose dance as if every movement generates enough momentum for a life to spring into being dance like tomorrow will always bring another reason i want roots that hold me close to the pit of the earth within arm distance of the magma that promises new life and gave us our first breath i want to know the taste of ash. i would like to be good at living but the rubbish keeps coming and no one is around to talk to.
i vomit in a plastic bag and something wet trickles onto my toes. the bag has holes and i still cant find one to crawl into.