All these years, I have known the distinctive pleasure
How it rotates it’s straw beneath my tender tongue.
The diaphragm splintering.
and blooming into a void of silence.
Days gone by,
Soiled and fractured bones.
I hear a sudden twitch of my collarbone,
A stubborn slap of liquid clock,
Abandoning this body of goddess.
How does one become a mannequin?
One simply stares and blinks,
the vacancy of emptiness.
Twirling with frills of lunacy,
Hot& porcelain pain.
A feverish stare
Of orange stomach into the sky of violet detachment.
And you become a terrible word in the sky.
A terrible, terrible wound.
counting hours for the doctor’s rush.
Loneliness does that to you,
It seeks a shade into your darkness,
Ladders of ambiguous scars.
A blind engulfed comfort.
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