I move
at your breath.
I roil about
beneath the surface
of this skin.
Break me open
like a raincloud.
Let me
spill all of myself
all over you.
Somehow, we will
wash ourselves clean.
About Catastrophe Jones
Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
