The glove of your mouth importunate.
Bring yourself to the bud of your body.
The jar is half empty.
I lean obscure allergic slow stand
my pulse a grandstand standing
in me boy the moon is lean
at risk.
My furrow blisters so had
it sizzles the thermometer bent
swollen with honey
rain mitts the sand the consonance
(Is love when you eat popsicles if in bed the slim leaves of Whitman inflate)
the salt my blister so so
rub it.
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