well, we are all caged inside aged standards: a string of landays*

‘Tween legs without hanging, cloning tube, hands tied inside kingdom of plates, forks, knives, fittingly. Rugged palms even at birth, first cry should be the last, plow land, tear not. Masculinity. Fingernails painted in red welcomes thin sheets of cloth be stripped, cream breasts bared, unwillingly. Broad chest cracks in silence, no one wants, your […]