someone who isnt me is peeking out from a haunted house running away to itself in the distance.
born in a garbage dump with couch spring for a stomach and a cat for a brain.
the Trickster sneers, "can i ever truly know thyself?"
do you recognize your shadow?
waves stealing sand on the psychic shoreline
lives in a garbage dump still.
like a spider weirding on its wet web, dragging metal through an alley.
crying like the wind