i barely make a sound, just wait out the night. wasn’t it if you die, i die? so what happens now. i keep waiting to feel something other than the air rushing out of my lungs but i am colder than all of the ships that have sunk into the belly of the atlantic. im building my body out of concrete slabs and barbed wire, making this something i will survive. but if i were honest,
oh if i told the truth.
