the fluffy kitten's stories

You are the one when that tumour starts to press.  When flipping yourself hanging by curled toes on the top of the door frame everything is normal.  When random words spew out my dry cracked lips bubbling with salivation and glazed.  No words uttered again, just the incessant burbling of rhythm and rhyme hunting with a double-barrel.  These letters don’t look right, they never go in order, a marching ant army swarming across, out of place, disjointed instead of regimental glory.  It’s been far too fucking long for this shit… emo flick.  Nonchalent head toss.  Crawling on hands and knees for fear of making waves.  Of vibrations.  Of being.