love
i have been avoiding your poetry.
it is sick and twisted.
this is a wasteland,
road and streetlamp and dark houses
further from you I become in this wasteland
I know it, I have been there
it is me
love, i have been avoiding your poetry
it is the black plague
infectious rats crawling with intimacy
dirty human bodies, touching
touching, writhing, piling burning
my heart blackens with distance
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