Eating the Oneiric

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a half-hearted shove into the very same beauty as yesterday: glimmer against wrists sweating their lust: that young jackal trying to imagine what a tattoo would say if it could speak: handcuffs to glossy-red lips, cheeks coagulating on the rim: a murderous afterburn gently peeling back layers of DNA doing 300 push-ups a minute

brown doors and pastry skin capable of metamorphosis at any second: the very heart of dissociative freedom like strangers kissing in a tree: certain hues repeat themselves when drinking bruised, skinny pints of fifteen: kitchen cesspool contortion and buttocks straining, the sheer grime sucking at hosiery for a free flash of pussy

monosyllables cooling on a girl's thigh, the primordial supine: that inscrutable siamese-dream carries its own decapitation across the street: the space between another black dress clinging too-tightly to young flesh and this nubile sorrow: slender membranes emblazoned on a sea of nomads traversing the flutter of cellphones, verbatim


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