As I clean myself I try not to use the word wife I try not to use the word snipper.
As I clean myself I try not to use the word hygge I try not to use the word insane.
If I give you my hand it’s also my arm ect.
Could I reach deep down inside myself pull out the glory?
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searching rest in movement, I waste myself, afloat carrying and being carried forceful, yielding a soluble state of being availability of moving and being moved letting go carried away bent by what escapes me inhabiting contradictory forces, I find myself in between.
It’s in my hair, in my head and mouth it shortens my breath It’s under my tongue and in-between my teeth it wraps around their roots It’s behind my eyes and around my eyeballs it fills my under-eyes like tiny sacks I tightly close my eyes and squeeze them with…