It’s not me I’m worried about,
she screams, i pull out of her embrace, let loose a spray of ink across her unstained flesh, i scream as well, through tears, desperate to read the hidden images before it all fades away, her blue lips part in a smile that deepens the mystery
it’s poetry and his strong hands around our neck choking the life out of it
EC made me re-fall in love with poetry. that’s how good she is.