no you step no you
crush my appetite you make
my heart recite murmurs of incongruence
you are speak of the devil
you are the tongue of the wicked
shooting down the locals for the gun
of words is ulcers pulsating my
stomach/// a butter churn stuck with
saturated fat glopped and
pulse quickens when you speak
and step you step you crush me under
i roll away deterred
as man falters when he
determines worth, succeeds
when he is used to determine such.
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