5th

pick away at the little sediments with your sensational complexions, when you dissect yourself for the tourists in the city behind your forename. throw the tweezers with you so it wont tell. theyll take the souvenirs right off your tounge while every time youre missing an old piece of you, the stitch in your chest reopens from the digging of your fingernails, trying to reach for nothing under the porcelain. look for dumpster divers: the only person wholl find value in what youve thrown away is someone who collects refuse.

i may not understand you. but i know insecurities hide behind fresh collagen.

i know you.

everything you do is a self-portrait, especially the lying.

– the permanent bruise.