tumbling,through troughs and peaks,a washing machine of words,thrown at me,while I am already rung dry,already wilted, crumpled,ready to form into debris,yet,out of love matched with anger,they unleash leeches,I spend the rest of the days unpicking insects off my skin,laughing,as I observe the montrosities of words,I never speak to hurt,and if to hurt, then I remain […]