hope someday I can hold my
shoulders
while I cry with my head resting on my
lap
then my hair could allow a brush from someone else’s
hands
without me flaring my dog
teeth
to stab
maybe this year, maybe the next or never
at all, I’d love to tan my finger, been boiling
beneath my mane sweater
but my
voice
cracks at my
sight
there’s not enough light
oh black mirror sun
when do i stop
feeling this much
feeling
buried deep between the ocean and the sky
this nuisance, this noose, this gordian tie
legs limp Limbo from our Penrose file
we don’t want to die, we’d just like to sleep for a
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