B-Nik

I can only you like image, like without a voice.

Like no doubt you’re female, but faint isn’t the sound.

Beat. You trace walls like mohawks , like. And turbulence.

Fingerings like waterfalls.

Stalking steps and platform cogs.

Beat. Snaps. Beat.

Gyrospheres of clothing tiers, like around ankles: really, really small.