one on that single lonely lovely wick
Stampedes the darkness
And I above my body
Eye the eyes of the wall
The wood grain is itching,
fiending,
unabatedly for the release of that sweet sealant
to encompass our world in it's
liquid design.
Attached to the magnetism of solidity they never stand a chance.
Somberly I return
to the binds of my own bodily prison
I rise again and lick my lips
And lick my fingers
Saliva
A single touch
dark,
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