in candlelight, his shape defies still form.
warmth taps dormant tongues into fleeing words
extending withheld emotion.
trembling in fabric-kissed skin,
he held the artist’s hands to find stability in his touch.
uncertain whispers beg the question.
heavy head flickering against his chest,
he folds under his own stillness.
objects stemming from wounds
my injuries generate the art
Engaging myself through a lack of visual content,
I found that we constantly catch ourselves in walking —
just a simple cycle of
tripping and meeting ground_
tripping and meeting ground_ _
tripping and meeting ground_ _ _
square off statements into fleshed out corners
duplicates scaling your view
saving for this too