(genesis) my world's glittered infrared miniature stars falling off my brows and below my fragile soul bursting from my eye. the laugh lines on my orbits wrinkle and my lips draw anchor from my cheekbones when i close off reality. and the walls sparkle behind my face, porcelain with no name; dreams echo unconscious(-ly) into me. i think i prefer my atmosphere. the temperature's like dynamite but there's neon constellations to figure out. my world's not glitz and glamour but it's compressing its teeth to my lips and i couldn't ever deny such sensuality. it's three a.m. in my time zone open to me like a yawn as i delve into my origin my name my ink my genesis.