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give me thunder or give me sugar or give me the black charred roses trod under the blood moon where i intend to make this hate a harvest we aint here to save ourselves & a mouth begat a swing, & a swing begat the fall, & the fall begat the splatter, & the splatter begat the swish and spit, & the swish and spit begat caffeine headaches pushing sharp behind my teeth like so many daisies & that's a kind of mourning too my fists hang heavy like summer peaches just over the fence a thing that ain't beautiful but deserved by those who get too close wasn't it enough? how i find you, thirst for something vermilion, fingers closing around soft arteries & pulling, always pulling pick a fight like an opium poppy & get hooked on the sting