Clipside of the pinkeye flight I'm not the percent you think survives I need sanctuary in the pages of this book Gestating with all the other rats Nurse said that my skin will need a graft I am of pockmarked shapes The vermin you need to loathe
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Now I'm lost
last night I heard lepors flinch like birth defects it's musk was fecal in origin as the words dribbled off of its chin
it said I'm lost I'm lost now I'm lost
dolls wreck the minced meat of pupils cast in oblong arms length the hooks have been picking their scabs where wolves hide in the company of men
it said I'm lost I'm lost now I'm lost
are you peaking in the red perforated at the neck what of this mongrel architect a broken arm of sewers set past present and future tense clipside of the pinkeye fountain
now I'm lost
it's been said long time ago you'll be the first and last to know you'll never know