the rabbits are my hunting knife and i collapse (so soft, so gentle) we the pulsar heart, nonentity with ribbons of peril and dismay could we sever with abalone kitchen knife the harkening milder the heather hedge towards your milk heart. unhappy and generorous please keep me in your heart cradle and pass around secrets in ceremonious betrayal even her, the lavender scones witch who lives at the end of the road. gathering white deer and cutting my tummy open you pour rabbits in the blue torso. thorned grass and dog paths and the tall grasses bending to scratch my face. in my neck is a red hole and the father insect sleeps inside. ceremony unfortunate, clawed crystal into your magic and i taste of milkweed and a drainage ditch. true squirming hatred will give you your god. spaciate, ghost peach and blood fruit i, with sick and with worrying, lay in the oak hollow a lollipop baby. beckon a death tryst, the edges are curling up in grey ember and we will unopen. hewn from the hole is an oil-black seed. lay it inside me the ghost nest of nothing.

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