The abstract table heart.

I eye my leg with a horse bone. My foot stays still on the moving earth. My breath smells of punk junk and two days ago someone knocked on my head to tell me I was standing next to myself. I told them to piss off and drew more lines on my spine. I munch wood and take naps on half eaten tables. I am nobody and I know it. Whoever thinks of being somebody is nobody.

In all my madness, one is certain. That I have a heart.

Drawing made by Diana.