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unnamed fun? a red star breaks windows her hair enters my heart colder than a turtle's tear ducts slowly stone walls leak iron-rich water why is the mouth i want stuck on your face? the territories of our bones are between high shelves thick books thin veins picture frames around poisoned livers he guessed correctly the next line of the tv show, then shot himself family reunions stuck on film like pressed butterflies, antennae crumbling she stuck her head down my silver tuba and the concert stalled for a moment concave floors tumble furniture onto my bent back under a dripping yellow chandelier I built for myself a new cage in a wide field of low flowers to see freedom from a distance he found that in the afterlife he could undress simply by dancing, dress by sitting still! I threw the broken furniture off my body & crawled toward the phone, giggling sadly I draw thin blueprints on my lover's pregnant stomach, & set fire to the slideshow she withdrew herself from my silver tuba, leaving her off-key voice in my mouth each shelf sagging like an arm holding a heavy, struggling animal by it's tail whining cameras faceless clocks empty fishtanks smelling like frog eggs her knees unbend and exit my memory, then kneel elsewhere and why can't i be the only smell left in your nose? the stone walls are replaced by sheetrock hotter than an elephant's intestine a blue star in the backyard reassembles them.
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