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he’s not talking he’s distillation or red handed butcher maybe his own sun long down in his belly like a hot boiling womb or gold brown dog eyes half closed in some animal boy’s face and breath like cinnamon tiger stripes painted on your skin he’s swollen bellied girls like mother mary of god jesus in my throat face pressed against belly pressed against skin
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he’s not talking he’s distillation or red handed butcher maybe his own sun long down in his belly like a hot boiling womb or gold brown dog eyes half closed in some animal boy’s face and breath like cinnamon tiger stripes painted on your skin he’s swollen bellied girls like mother mary of god jesus [...]
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