Pain like writhing snakes won't die. Complaining rifles seldom help. I drop with every fall. As bones in fish, it has a lucid reason base. Absent legs tend to make a woman worship her arms.
Motion makes choices.
To meet the meat of stampeding hooves dialing in judgment from a touch-tone phone. Out of kindness, curtain silence falls. I drink pity for breakfast and vomit its remains with will. What lies beneath these leather scars are daisies crushed, sand dollar dreams and the chalk of fury lathered by the wild call of proving my worth. Tender bubbles beneath my skin have not been touched, because.