than it is in my eyes
the road is slippery
but my tiny feet will not fall under it.
though i convinced myself to believe it.
there is filth in my veins,
my young wrinkles
susuwatari have not slipped through the door
self-inflicted black dust
clouds precipitated dirt
and with willing fingers
i caught them
absorbed into my pores
eradicate such pollution
but i grip
and cannot let go.
stuck to me like honey
i sipped the sweet nectar
and felt no regret.
i'm a fucking mess.
