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When you think about me, pulling

the taste, words from my mouth, do

you get hard, do your lips grow red,

ready to spread?

I bet you start to pout, rigid, white

lies flowing, glowing….

You, wanting to cover me in ghostly

images you can only create….

All over me you want to pool in

silvery webs, twisting tales of

obscene art…

My head held back, I take you in

snowy ashes, until next time……

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ARTWORK BY STEFANO BONAZZI

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