hello monday

there’s riots going on all around the world, and here i am writing about shit, fisting and pieces of meat.

what’s a riot though, without fisting??

a tiny poem for tiny minds, i mean.. hearts,

gaping holes and tattered gloves
holes becoming bigger
more then the tiny tiny tiny
swimming through, but tightly fitted
my breath feels warm you say?

deeper deeper my pops receding
into soft soda or beer, sounds different