Description
I knew this was the last glimpse of family.
The last whisper of love.
Am I small or is the world too large for my ideas?
I offered my back like I always do.
Pretending not to notice your pain.
Your inner scratching of an idea clawing to escape.
I could always offer the escape no other drug could.
If only I had a last name.
Something that I too could pass onto my lesser selves.
I always did like Von Hoofington.