words don't come that easy.

x

26.01.2022
5:35 (fuck proper sleep schedule)

my body isn't a temple it's a 1998 ford taurus with a cracked sideview mirror and sand from the beach two years ago still in the passenger floorboard. my body isn't a temple but it is big enough to hold small acts of worship in the back seat, the fog of a hundred prayers in the front. my body isn't a temple it's just good at getting the fuck out of every place it's ever been. my body isn't a temple it's just something i have that used to belong to someone else. my body isn't a temple it's a second-hand survival mechanism. my body isn't a temple my body has a front brake caliper that's about to freeze and a faulty oil light so you never know when something's wrong you have to guess. my body is fine but it's not my first choice. my body isn't a temple, just an altar in the dark, just a pew alone on the highway, just an old car holding on in ways a god never could. my body isn't a temple but it feels like it's in a whirlpool, trying to make sense of whatever is it that you're trying to make me feel. my body isn't a temple it's just one dropped match away from a shrine. my body isn't a temple it's useful. it's about to break down. it's almost home.