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Yasha Harkness Apr 2015
Something in us shivers
Slides up our throat
Slick
Tasting like metal, crushed rain-bugs we can almost smell
Cascading along our nerves
They are so dreadfully taut
They feel like a stranger's body
In the dark pub, in the corner
with few couples dancing to a jukebox.
thinking of strangers and strange things

— The End —