b read

i cant turn my head

im as thin as a book mark

put where u had to stop

im hard as old bread and ur soup aint hot

to soften my grumbling hard edges

so i crumble and blow away

and am left on ur kitchen floor

where u had to stop the evening dance

and u turned off the music

i cant hear so i cover my ears

with my two hands big as summer fruit

strong like black man

while my brain sirens like a steam train

pumps like a radio

and turns the pages

under poplar trees

while u tread on my meat

i squeeling like a piglet

im squished like a sponge with ur hands

comes out nothing but bubbles

to wipe dirtyones

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