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If you don’t call me then this dull ache in my head which
I like to feel will not recede.
this body feels alive as I attempt, a poem to you
or to my dull ache,
sucking me up as I wanted to suck you
a while ago.
I want to get physically hungry because here I am,
deprived, like a bitch that has been shoved off,
mangy, ill, miserable, dull, intense, unstoppable, disturbed, banal, aching,
depraved…hungry, aching, cur.
I, bereft of you am only cunt,
cunt.

February 2008.

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