Witchy Cascades
Usual writing room and usual posture,
Reach up, breath flows into belly, pain between the shoulder blades.
Can I really just talk about whatever I like?
She said I should be a model, me with my crooked face.
Stinky. Grimy. Greasy. Rubbery.
As I begin I hope for constancy. In the end, inconstancy.
Usual writing room and usual posture.
Crooked, wrinkled face, slack and drooping.
Did I think that or make it into a story?
More a function of his lust than any desirable quality in myself.
Roaring. Thumping. Clanking. Bumping.
Usual writing room and cross-legged posture.
Goosey neck and red swollen nose.
What is solarpunk?
The pot’s a comfortable temperature, not too anything.
Usual writing room and usual posture.
Forearms loose skinned. Hands sweep, a sandy sound.
What is holding you back?
Usual writing room and usual posture.
Fingers lotioned, straight, slim, and smooth.
Usual writing room and usual posture.
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