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Dimensional Paraphernalia




I want to make myself known
not in the pages of my ecstasy
but situating myself in laments.
I want to create my name
not on the nailed plaques on the wall,
but as a varnished wood that spews addictive odor. 

I look at their brass and percussions 
long before I tap it and
hear its melody in crescendo, 
and as people shout incessantly.

From my paternal land, I disguise:

my name, 
my rumination,
my tarnished heart of steel.

in alternatives,
in substitutions,
with my elevated feet, I am

drunk in my grandma-weaved sweater,
and aye, I taste 
the bitterness of the water.

Molly,
Caress my mouth, and
dive into my smothered depths, 
into orals and fantasies,
rocking chairs, cocksure dances,
four vomits on immaculate sheets of a stranger's place.

there, my granules of my aliveness,
slowly swallowing, as own Loch Ness swarms the water.
here I am sealing my spot―
gliding my sweating body onto the bedrock, 
and with closed mouth, I speak, and
on top, I startle.

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