I am so pretty when I’m falsely complacent, darning needles for fingers, damning feelings for feelers, a heavy stone in the pit of my hipbones and a tongue I can sew down like an anchor of rancor, push push against weights we were born with like waning shadows. Are you sure of yourself in these moments we stand sideways? I am an animal with these mornings as prey, half-eaten corpses scattered under your covers. Narrow down your fears, naturism for lovers. I dig into you, elbows deep into abdomen, they think this is something far more beautiful than them, than the degeneration of origination. Our secrets are angelic behind our lips so profane. Betrayals are kisses in the garden before your crucifixion, and I will forget your name.

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