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a gender-modified golden shovel of Revelations 17:6

 

And how the pros sparkled! I thought I’d play this game best

when playing my betters. Up close to the net, pivotless,

I felt myself most alive when being slaughtered. Everyone

saw the shame, how swiftly it came to its descendant. Dark heirs

then cookies in a star tin. I licked the sweetness from each surface.

I thought I could handle it. Maybe a teeny tinge even

wondered. But you read me like a feather set on fire is the entirety

with us: a flame between two pages sharing a bench. Your words or Scriabin’s.

Great Coincidence, please take what you’ve won. Conceive my

admiration. Your head in my words—eros, cinders.