image by Claireveiler

It means the slip
of a tortured soul
A pool of wet
As we loose control
The sunken dreams
and hardened flesh
the phone box chimes
As we ring collect
A call to the outside world
Fingers pressing the dial
hands jittering like a christmas
tree with lights
he say's.
I melt like
i am my own Cocoa butter
Chew the gaps between supposed words
Pose on a foot
Outside the streets are micro chipped
Inside this hub
i am animal
"Hello?" his voice melts me. I shake
the quivers
For i am his little jitterbug
I think of conversations lost
Conversations missing
blood from inside my mouth
rushes to my Teeth
I am a mass of paperclips
he is my Wizard of Oz
"Da.." i gurgle a sentence;
Then remember why i left.
Reciever is oil in my hands
i am slick with my own near


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