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Logan Turner Feb 2021
It stares at the broken pieces
The mould of reversible desire
Recycled
Chewed and chipped
The key
I'm so scared of the holes
They go so deep I believe
Neck locked forwards
Backwards sleep
Let it steep and pour it out

Wispy lonely fog
One foot in
One foot out
Gnawed at
Blood spurtin
Sawed at
Variable not boolean
Screaming at the naked body in all the cursive I know
Written in bold neon
Live and let live
ALL ****** PYGMY CANNIBALS ARE CURSED TO CHUG
SLUG-BLOOD FIRST TO SLAKE ALL SLUG-BLOOD THIRST
WEST AFRICA'S WORST PYGMIES ARE CURSED TO CHUG
SLUG-BLOOD FIRST TO SLAKE BAD SLUG-BLOOD THIRST
I said something when I should have said nothing or not anything. I
said too much when I could have spoke about lesser things; things I
know for 7% certain: how to hang a dumb curtain; the C.I.A. killed
Tom Merton; **** actors are great at spurtin'; blind chicks ****-***
at flirtin' with coal miners who got more tar-black Pygmy moles on
them than freaky Liz Taylor's crapped-out husband Richard Burton.

— The End —