by David Veloz
I'm eating all the time, but I need more. My shirt fits like a wolf or like a wolf suit on a woman who starves herself for love. My ribs rattle when I sleep, my knuckles puff when I crack them. If I ask you to fish me out of an icy jail or dress me with your hands in your pockets, believe me that my own pockets are mouths like your mouth around my hands, and my pants are tight around the knees, which is nothing like you and my knees.