porcelain makes me pure
clean and white as bleached bones
pressed up against skin
sickly romanticization
oh how I adore you
disgustingly hollow, feed me ice
I love the feeling
of emptiness
I hate the self awareness
of disease
forgive me
a rice cake with green tea
as bland as air
barely preferable
it’s only grown worse
eat me alive
chew through my ribs
there is nothing left