oh man, i wrote something after 4 weeks

xv

you don’t leave hell unless you’ve been nursing pomegranate muscles against rotting teeth. you don’t leave hell unless digging rug burns from coal cut cuticles gets tiring, pulling up daisy carpets gets lonelier. roaring flute beats from piper pan beast, steam roller subway service station, edible arrangements taunted by hour glass changes. you don’t leave hell unless you believe yourself, until anxiety slays the ignorance, she tattooed teeth onto her fangs to bite down, twice allowed, you don’t leave. you are a circle cross interlocking, you are a spoon fed serpent with paper cut collages, you know it. you don’t leave hell unless you’re the devil, the, the, the devil (reversed).