or beat my steering wheel
out of disinterest.
now screaming because of discoveries.
i get angry and i wallow frantically
in the lobster legs tickling, but
slow my breath of love.
i get used to you also laugh and feel a lob i can evade.
i want to spend days getting a parasexual glob together.
was i somewhat full in my head at the time?
to glom is all.
to make us a peaceful, loosely strung.
and then keep my brain, trade after trade.
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