Tags: callous

mcavoy sad

word theory.

 crunch, and crackle, eating the warm coat of your callous, fondling condensed blood vessels with your tongue. this is a euphemism, of course. another coat. for another idea, which is just another perception. another coat, under another coat, under another. times infinity. this is exactly how i like to reckon the spine of our cosmos: a coat rack. just, wrapped, confined in the oval of a spotlight devouring the cold, crawling comfort of the dark. and adam and eve is just another euphemism, a gossamer thread enveloping the coat rack metaphorically eating the big apple of shame, of sin, of knowledge. to hide. for warmth. to cover its nakedness, to inject the terrible itch of conformity. then theres another itch, underneath that itch. nothing is bare, nothing is raw. except---

today, i feel like a spine. or the silhouette of one.