eat your

guard it jealously,
for they will smell its openness
for miles, their nostrils will dilate
in olfactory orgasm at the pungence of its need,
their ears sharp to its throbs and mewls

keep it close, for their mouths will salivate
for its novelty. they hunger for the unsoiled
and defilement is a rite of passage–

the sweetness of ruin makes their tongues ache
with longing.

hold it tight, at all risk– your opportunity cost is only
the swell-sweet bright arc of pain in bold strokes
across the white of your ribcage,
the gray of your brain
and the raw pink of your innards (which, i warn you,
will twist if you fail to protect what is yours)–
i promise you, pollock will forgive in time

you will be safe,
if only you hide it away
tuck it, bury it deep
and by all means– by any means,
let no one near.


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