Squeeze me
On either side of my head
Press inwardly
The glands of these names
And the scents of these touching tips of things--each edge the blade of being
Through the closed throat
Slit the sore at the node
And right on through the chest
Flesh out the roads of my stories
Vining their way to my extremities
Now let these capillaries burst with the events in their knowns
Bleed the through the susceptible
Functions
These fucking manners and makers
These blobby bits clinging to the biles, bloods and antibodies
Bleed them through
And the skin of my sights
Won't mean much the same by now
So let them peel away
Let as much as possible leave that way
To pool over
Into the soup of our creation
Once more
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