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I don't know
this woman who hovers in my dreams like poison in raped cities. Her cut-off top barely contains huge breasts. Flat stomach, firm skin bronzed by sun; her shorts are tight, a blue skin I want to rip free. I would like to sleep with ... her face I see pocked, scarred, oozing sores. Her skull shines through half clumps of hair She is a mutant with hypnotic glare Death in life Horror of the night My animal me reaches out to her The heat boiling in my balls She will suck me inside her womb I will kick and scream shriek in agony and she will give birth to a Monster. (To copy or translate this poem, please contact STEVE CROSS) TRANSLATOR and ILLUSTRATOR WANTED FOR THIS PAGE
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