i didn't want this,
the fallen dust
floated nonchalantly to the frozen floor,
curtain of forgotten dreams
and experienced perversions.
the dichotomy of unfulfilled desire,
fueled by the lion
does not justify a barcode
tattooed with shaking hands
in the cold flesh of personal history,
the seminal fluid stain
that refuses to be washed away,
cast away by the detergent of the living moments.
WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!
i can regurgitate this in any way
but it doesn't help,
it doesn't yeast and
it doesn't imply anything relevant.
genitalia thrown together
with the purpose of finding a viable solution
Through trial and error.
the color of blood being repeatedly washed
in an automatic washer
floods the floor
on which 13 strains of powdered sugar
have chosen to sunbathe under halogen light.

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