I maneuver my
Terror knife to private zones.
Habitual me.
Lousy memories,
Fantasy and irony
Fuel my hate nozzle.
In praise of the plunge,
Long patterns leap from the gut
Painting fluid clouds
Not of mundane shape
But of soft diffusion and
Dark, growing splendor.
Now, calmly cleaning.
Ever mindful of the warm,
Rich cherry desktop
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