Tuesday, March 27, 2018

a hold isn't a home without the blood that ties

and, all our sex
work is found in an illusion of capital
that never scenes on a front cast call

I know people who, live and die in fantasy
*they want you, they love you, they wait for you*

I know the minute I wait for another, years fall by
*they move on, for once, and you should be happy*

do we trade attention for affection?
hardly, caught a glimpse and fell asleep
there is nothing easy about it

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