GANGRENOUS WORDS
I feel like ripping out a gangrenous wound!
Incessantly playing a broken accordion
My mind's repurposed angels distribute a few alms for the rain god
And the scent of old trunks falls on my cloned funeral
I encase my senses in the pit between lal-mim/sol-fa
I now have a house, crooked lives churning within my tiles
I am against—you are against—all the laws of physics.
Cigarette butts that never cease to smoke fall from the sky.
You are something that always feels cold. Hiding Dali in your body
That's why elephants make love alone. Storms, a great curse
I saw myself in the first shelter of hydrangeas
I cut my cord, in defiance of the all-out pain in my back
I feel like ripping out a gangrenous wound
Yet, it won't be mentioned in any medical book, and you won't know why
I simply drew your blood...
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