Jealousy is my worst flaw.
Fighting to stay on top with pity.

It hurts everywhere. Even the fingertips. A slow steady boil.
Followed by an incredible surge of heat.
Swallowing up all that is, of the body.

The body. Being, yet not.

I miss you.
See. I address you in first person.

I love you.
Your insides, your outsides and the in-betweens.

Sometimes its pretty.
Other times, its not.
The world.
Or something one scale smaller.
Me.


"'The time has come,' the Walrus said,
'To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings-"