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Apr 2018
Catch me a cloud,
I wished for pillows
made of fluff
and empty promises.

Stalk my thoughts please.
Jack didn’t know beans
about how a golden egg
could taste so good to
my umami buds.
Only a fountain of youth
tantalized sweeter.

I fell for a giant one
the lumbering fool
I was.
Every night castle walks
and courtyard dalliances
only whetted my appetite
for the addictive flaunt of candlelight and violins.

I’m only satirical
when my reflection talks back
and sharpens my resolve
for inducing steam.
Moist heat to soften
tumbling dry bones
scraping innards
of an open grave.

Moist lips to filter my self-hate.
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