The Thirteenth SexAnne Boyer
The crevice rests in chemical complacency. Invested in the body as entirety, spit shined by the queens of industry— a myth! O yes. My favorite Perseus. Dandy story, losing one's head. Blind pursuit and snakes tied up like birthday bows. Cannot read no more. I'd sing but Johnny at the bar, alone. Still the big empty is often required for these competitions. Johnny can from the shifting be "this" or the end of "this." Behind the unwashed glass: Johnny a replica self, in life vest. I've been needing and I've been thinking about needing— yes.
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