After a time I’m manufactured of bad words.
Receiver seven holes and the chime incoming.
My ear, my ear, in between the thumb
Pressing this, dots, dots spitting.
I’m pressing through the split, ivy emblem,
while
I myself can not.
Eye mouth, eye mouth interred
I’m going on a breeze all waxed up
Stooping to get the message.
Which is bruising through the neighborhood
Like stilettos in blood, house cakes
Watch me put on the weather
And trudge.
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