sickly purplish fleshy lips 
pleading and heavy
a nasally whine drowned out
by florescent buzzing and gunshot wounds

 there's an itch:
a dead twin living in that darkened spot
stamping out nightmares of the worst kind
a hardening shrieking excitement
pearl-yellow, shattering teeth in ecstacy
at the winning end of blu gun-metal

there's an itch
stapled down and locked away
saved for ...

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