winterlightx

Sometimes I see you as a minotaur, sometimes as a duck, but you are always barking. Your sleeve torn, the trail of teeth-marks down your arm, and you are smiling as you take out the trash, laughing as you cut yourself open. And I wonder, where does my envy end – the floor, the kitchen, the ocean? Where did my spine go? The disks and vertebrae falling away, and hiding behind the furniture. Your desk, a harbour. Your lungs, a well. The bookcase, a new Dachau, my body coming to pieces.