and when i need to
vomit
i vomit
and the world inside me explodes like a thousand dying pigs
getting dirty before they die.
what is happening can be found
past a touch and every sound
talk to me,
i am sand
and the pigs lay down and die on me
see me;
wide, open gap in the space
where all things are known
but to be known yet, still
is
to
to be found
alors - without a sound -
, i close back up the door
