For when miss your little faces
I run and run, I interlace us
I power through these tiny spaces
And mix them all in my own bases
Damn! These laces!
Crossing the threshold, leaving the known world behind. Preparing for revenge against the one witch tongue in the thought leaves an unsafe tension in my body. Revenge for the plim and palm you have to take care of. The spine wants to free itself, wants to move in the shape of ssss,…