it’s a bumpy ride for three souls. when
you’ve locked yourself too deeply inside
and the words begin to
out onto the paper without any of your complex
they say it came from there-
it’s that brilliant wide place where
run off to, and where
the sisters originated.
don’t pretend you haven’t been there,
when your hot feet on scorched pavement remember the feel
of ice biting into them,
when you say that your lips can taste him perfectly
even though he’s never seen your soul.
british fantasy capitalized it and made it official
and psychologists analyzed it
and prescribed a cure-
they called it a mental disorder, but i,
i called it humanity,
i called it you,
i called it us.