like the snapping of bone
your defenses open up
the marrow of your existence pours out
into the preheated skillet of lust
and without even knowing it was happening
you’re fucked/fucking
make a wish and it may all go away
make a choice and it may free your soul
make it happen and the world may condemn you
or become a blank page devoid of feeling
the choice is yours
for the fire of mortality will burn you in the end
without a second thought about who scribbled
on the paper of you life
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