if death is pushing daisies, desire is pulling off their petals.

I don’t think she’ll want me.

when she finds

my goddamn skull is a cave of Aladdin horrors and she

shuts

although she brightened while we met and left.

It was hard

when I was trapped in

a world I couldn’t fit.

Knowing I am the trap

I can’t get out of

is worse.

Open.

 

 

Directive.

crumble smooth plaster. Unveil

the tomb. breath into bones.

Resurrectionist anarchy bleaches the land into color.

 

Don’t leave one single dead

soul living

dead

 

 

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