For, the Refusals.

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Strutting – that your confidence’s oozing,
Dripping, we crawl by your doors
Your toes, we’re sucking
Your breasts in our dreams that seems
Not unreal to the unreal eye.
Your truth is a lie

In your perched existence, in the cushion
Of your husband’s crotch
You hold with four faltering fingers
The round of your coffee cup.
Where you take the turns, dust particles spreading
We’re there awaiting. We’re there. Waiting.

So – refuse me now, I’m just a
Cock that you hold with the thickest
Wrinkle of your bilabial fold.
Where you touched, where you burned
Sawdust can be smeared
And you’re beyond from being injured. Refuse me now.

We’ll break down the closet, where your riches hide,
One day the crowbar passes hands
And in sufferance, pleasure and exasperation
In pain, your body in your car will burn
Again. And again.

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