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Humpty
putting spells on me, he leaks inky lies that I somehow shrug at , as if something was caught on my cardigan. stepping out from the inside, outside your bedroom, once a home. people talk, but have no reason. they’ve been desensitized, demoralized. flashing screens have done nothing but take the piss out of being young. the understanding of my perception isn’t crucial. the only factor separating you and me is I know all your secrets, the ones you don’t even breathe into the night for fear someone might catch on. i see it in your photographs, the way you bat your eyelashes, dashing pupils behind them and all.
and all the king’s horsemen and all the king’s men couldn’t put you back together again.
