Amening

Model prisoner or not, I won't. Silver lash, hound's tooth, meager sinful town's crook. I am nervous again. I could kill if you let me. But tonight, I'll be still under this palm. Zeroed out, the tea my toilet muck. Licorice and almond twisted beneath the sink, I'm lovely again. Come on with my dying. Today the globe's underside isn't pink, but rather, I look ahead toward what has happened.