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Feb 2015
Sinking peach pit of a stomach.
Sour to sweet it moves through
desire like an untamed wild
child raised by wolves inside
a silk house.

Slowly ripping fabric,
as teeth clench.
Microfibers of strength
unseen by the body,
treated like an issue.
Everything an issue.

Everything contained
into roles,
like stale bread
given to the birds...
CMD
Written by
CMD
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