I am feeling this cold against my bones,
a million-miles-an-hour crystal razor.

Took a pill just this morning, white sky guts
glossing the carpet, the jets
Mary’s congress and need of congress with her
waking me every morning to kiss and say
goodbye. I have this happiness.
There’s always been a running in me
away, which I’m getting over now.
Ice is slow. Ice is beautiful.

Not everything can be beautiful?

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