Her hands
are cruel under
the steaming
mushroom soul evil in
the potato char her
eyes inside the salt
and oil rancidly
considering tomato
the woman sitting next to me
on the metro scratching her
throat makes my skin itch
splits the back of my
neck
I urge something like pudding out of
my filthy orifice suck it
back in greedily
misunderstood too
sidetracked for true love
I'll sit a little longer in
this piece-wise sleep it
away
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