i am in love with good things.
good, tangible things.
sticky hands grab us by the neck.
our fears spreading out.
climbing outside of us,crawling up our spine.
it's the skin and bones that counts, anyway.
what else are we once everything else has melted away?
sometimes i feel like shit,
but at least i'm feeling.
other times i think my skin is the only part of me that can be touched.
and these fears are filling us up,
and digging into the pores of the skin on our backs.
their swelling.
giant swollen fears that climb each vertebrate like a staircase.
like spiders, their good things.
tangible and fame proof.
