"Sleep on That."

A gust of intimacy, from the plastic applicators which send electronic information in the form of binary. The way it stings, it's something that's become numb. Like the constant flow of water falling on your hand underneath it. I think of sticking my hand out my car window; No matter how much you try to fight the wind, it's still there pushing. Spiteful, yet beautiful--The fucking song just came on Pandora. The first few notes remind me of the sound of you hawking spit. Guns will always fire. They were meant to. But we have a choice, where we point them, and how we use them. In anger, in solace. Know where you point that gun of yours. I continue to grind, the blade of mine. the sweat brims my brow. The sparks scorch my skin. I don't lose focus, I only gain skill.