All writing is the copyrighted intellectual property of Jesi Bender.
There’s a flaxen, moon-face ingénue
with the Cannibalistic Eucharist
She wonders of a threshold unlimited
Some holy sheen cloaking the obsidian
We are controlled by the limits
of an ugly science, its soft criteria
Evolve or revolve
There are no other options
Once he sat on dresser drawers,
Crying - I CAN FEEL THE WORLD -
The weight was palpable and in the dark
Her comfort felt like pejoratives
Oh you who in darkness
Mourn the wet-hot sweetness
Of the morn in this body,
In this uncomfortable thing.
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