soft chains

Pierre Mornet

through silent floor corridors.

hesitant corners and bent down eyes, marble heavy, bag of stones. an echo dangles in the air with curved nails and sprawling bones.

I turn you inside out and listen to your heart with crooked fingers. unexplored territories, the crevices of your rib cage and pure collarbone ponds that I devour with sharp teeth. red blood, red skin, red rubber bands that bind my hands in front of you.

open roads, invisible stringencies.

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