art-share

SuperRare

it is cold

I measure the distances between the bones
with paper metres.
it's easier to tear centimetres
between two points on the globe.

under the eyelids,
I break the winds of the broken windows.
I tie my hands in knots around my knees.

they are blistered,

these figures of imaginary embraces.
and disappear without a sound,
like broken porcelain.

I plastered the walls with feathers.

it is cold.

Based duck, host /base-bulgarian, co-host in /ecocaster 


𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁