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Poetic Injustice


silence weighs heavier when you have touched and licked all possible skin surface.
the mystery dismantles slowly, yields itself in the practicality of everyday life and the lines you never wanted to consume out of fear of pollution.
what do you do with someone when you know all their curves and inches, where it curls and which thought itches.
glitching my way through body touches. mistaking lubricant rose smelling liquids. acquaintance. 

Get me out of my head I said get me out of my head for there is real peace in not knowing, in wanting to touch but not touching, in wanting to eat but not eating, in wanting to conquer but not daring.
I’m doomed doomed doomed with my eight day periods and a forever fuel for caring. 
Bring me a boy. bring me a boy with lips, so I can kiss my way through life and write my way through imaginary illnesses, so I can be a my hero and your victim,
so I can go about dying with a craving. 
I said bring me a boy. I want to do wrong. I want to do it right. bring me my mother. bring me a mirror. bring me coffee, make me coffee, so I know you love me. 


02.22