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waxing (12/22/2023)
I can feel the moon filling
rising in my chest,
my throat
a grip:
a commanding brand
blinding and hot
pressing down on my chest
while my legs buck
on an operating table somewhere
then sated
by the cooling hiss
of oxygen
(or at least
that's what they told me
it was)
"You're not yourself, Paul"
a much shorter name than mine
and a bone saw plain
some numbing tune by th...
Saturday 23rd December 2023 2:19 pm
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