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CMD 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...
-- he sees farther than I
So I'll drink to that.
A toast to scotland.
We toasted royalty,
and so don't have to
pay any royalties . .. ...

--> concesssions were made I'm sure . .. ...
my grandfar would have seen to that.

— The End —