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Brewing. Threading.

She’s a kind of acid

And I roll her between my fingers

To throw a lump on my eye

It catches and it sticks,

Hungrily eating up the trail of flesh that circles there

Trailing a skip and a jump of red sores behind her steps

She strips off, uninhibited

Her flesh shredding off in strips, easy flow

As she walks on wooden floors

That begin and end within my chest and it’s deep bottomed ocean

We thought she couldn’t reach us down here

But her appetite, it’s always prevailed

And she begins her second feast of the day

As the light from her watering saliva gleams and glistens

Trailing lazily on my tongue

I lie on the seabed,

Neither condoning nor condemning of her whole acidic self ,

But Just here,

Threading water

For all that it’s worth


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