{ smoldering horizons
with babies pierced on agave spines}
there is no bottom half to me }
{ my hands are the spiders }
{ you ask me to hold your baby
it turns into spiders }
everyone knows and I am very embarrassed
of those spiders
I feel like apologizing
there were men
you have to go through it again
amygdala sings to a lonely cortex
how does it keep happening which is when when is the never
I have no reason to believe this isn’t
but why then all this sweat
cold believe me i know how bad
still