The King. I Fall. 

​Dizzy spells everything wrong 

Complex anatomy instantly reduced

To flimsy carpentry, whatever joints 

I had became bubbles of inconsistency 

This physical form needs your sculpting 

Your discrete and mastered expertise.  

If I bathe you in oil and rub your bones 

Will you cradle me close, pet me like a child

Please ignore the stuttering and fluttering 

And the pupils that grow and grow. 

I have no needs. My needs are yours. 


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