Ash Conrad

an uneven stone word round in & out but still hard to bite on. (scared it slips out my mouth) I miss your hands the leather the grease the ink the lion on your back wearing your tan.

do you ever feel like a half a grapefruit at breakfast A sharp metal spoon keeps asking digging and scraping the sides of you and everything You’ve made and the cardinal on your left can only call out the pulp you’ve lost