Status Updates From Please make me pretty, I do...

Walking across homelands after the longest time, those winters, this spring. The core of a star as kidney stone.

Step in and the showerhead forgets its place, decides where to make of your shadow, where to kill its flickers. Step out and a mouth belts out cries for other mouths having been there. Answer for this via what it wants to order in the restaurant. In the yellow fields outside, the crickets sound our irritations. Some sweaters age faster than skin, the itch a reminder of dry riverbeds.