the day is a brochure,
a thing i'll never do.

reading death in the rain and finding
the bowl of oranges too still. unreal,
until i knock it over-
do something.

love someone
without strangle.
walk to cafes and drink unusual tea,
catch the eye of perfect men
and send your tongue to them.

put my fist through the window and drag
my wrists up the glass-

in half,
like pig heads on a doorstep.

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