the best ship is a friendshit

2012-10-09 | 12:42 a.m.

Carrying the flock to bed
crooked and cocked and fed
on last drops of my blood
I'm empty.
When all my arms were fifty odd
lame ducks cried for lifting laude-
I did oblige accommodation
and spent I tumbled.
Then came the thunder
laid me out
all the hands
could not be found.
But claws familiar
sliding deft
taking all
that I had left.
I wouldn't break
I couldn't break
I can only give
when there's naught to take.

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