shrinksarentcheap

I think we have had enough of ourselves

dashing about and posing in sweet entropy.

You were the Ace of Cups

sitting there at the end like a period,

or a new sentence,

or a death sentence.

I have exhausted my organs

in vitriolic distinctions and

ancient markings.

My body is writ with your pictures

like the valleys of Nazca,

you have carved me

with your hummingbird,

your albatross,

your spaceman,

and I am staring at the blood

running down my hands

and arms

and legs

in wonder

at our gasps and entreaties and

war.

Just war with me, won’t you?

I beg you to plot against me.

Position your pieces and topple me,

because once you rid yourself of the

Queen

you will be victorious.

Don’t deny me.

Just give me this one favor;

attack, and rip, and chew, and kill.

Otherwise all my fancies

fly away like Icarus

to…

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