Un

The grass bends away before my feet touch

sending scurrilous strings up my spine. 

What’s it like to be unlovable? 

Callow me already knows. 

She has felt the cool backs and hot hands cuspidal.

Strangeness suppurates and grows,

and twists, and 

petrifies — fetus in fetu; repeat repeat 

I hate me and I love you.

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