what so excites the creatures

about sameness?

there is no friction in the blandness of dough

just softness

& eventually worms

the infected skip through the streets

swinging wine bags and hosting

the age is nesting in dreariness &

a safe couch space

warm with the comfort of othering 

keeping their doors closed

they are brick house

we consuming silks

we writhing fabric

malleable and consuming

creeping in the wilding cold &

running from the years


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