the back of my rough knees, bleed and scream
I have dry thoughts and ugly shavings my cracked hands look brittle, uncouth as a bareknuckle boxer’s tooth eczema is for anarchists: red and black through and through
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morning
the beans, they scare me the chocolaty smell a siren song the darkness: my dreams with clipped wings you call it coffee breath I call it hot anxiety vapour |
Tommy HodgsonArchives
October 2020
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