by Anonymous Milk gliding down your throatlike powdered pearlsdelicate excrement groundsmooth and texturelessthick, filling, a plastic glovethat tastes of the moonthat final drop in a glassCircling around the bottomSpreading when tilted allover the surface, waxing toa crescent and then a fullmoon, gravity calling and the misty blue fadingand waning, from the edgesa translucent shadeholographic white,a […]
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