whimsybrain: SPRING AGNOSTIC Slips & falls & a snowbank featherbeds me— I dip myself in glitter, eyes glossy with the moment before sleep; before hypothermia; before drowning. Tongue freezes to licked wounds. Can I speak of anything else? All that glitters is broken glass, they tell me, all icicles lunge for the cut. Scales of …

julykings: i can’t figure out what i want now.to hibernate. to touch your stomach andyour fine hair. i heard you described as wilderness. as a watercolor. you. this thingexisting only in my head. but sometimesin my fingers. i would place my teetharound your neck, soft, or feel your shoulderwith my cheek. think: how miraculous when you …