Promisecuity

And we twist in the narrow bed of our own flesh,
The terror kissed tangle of our human shroud.
Resisting the urge of the spirit,
Splattering the glass with red mesh
and dreams of surging obesity,
Till the skin expands to cover the bed of our flesh over floorboards and window edges,
Eagerly reaching for fugitive lands and celluloid dreamscapes

Kazzy

"Sweaty back street city crewing"