a rhythm of striking gold,
I am picking all divisions
of my body bright,
blank skin along
a canvas, unshorn hair
matting against my skull,
spots of blood
and surviving murmurs
of your kiss upon my collar,
staining black, blooming
wild forms of joy
and gratification as I watch
my shadow unfurl
in your mirror,
with a grin and a laugh
as I lift up my arm to touch,
nails raw, and inch forward,
slowly,
my lips soft against glass
in rhapsody.
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