something to tide me over

i bear my canines. Revert to mammallian tendencies for something to sink my teeth into. Follow gut instincts till theres nothing but bile and contraction. Eventually, everything must pass through. In the last hours of sunday i am sallivating with technocentric dreaming. I am steaming tender things until they are done. Fledgling ambitions grow wings on nights like these. Falcons do burnouts across the horizon in search of new places to rest. i hold onto kite strings and practice all that i saw.