full of empty connections.
useless secrets.
dried scabs, chronic cold sweats and slow and heavy breaths.
rib cages are tired of being lifted.
each bone torn from the tissue connected.shaped like the pipes beneath your sink.
you've discovered the beating figure.
in synch with the beat beneath the skin of the wrist attached to the one who tore those bones apart.
beating harder than the drum of mainstream tunes.
you watch it,
but don't dare to touch as it pulsates.
shrinks, pulls in for a split second.
releases, returning to it's plump state
thump
thump.
thump.
thump.
