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I lather myself with the lavender soap
I imagine the essence of a sunflower
And I hope when he spreads my legs he smells the fields of Provence
Instead of cheap cherry lube
When I was a child I had simple rules
That only a child can follow
We are worn husks of organic produce
We lie to ourselves about the emptiness
We use and we hate
I hate and I am used
On starch sheets
In crochless panties
With a reaching hand of hope extending from my loins
Reverse birthing
Shedding the skin of this cumbersome twat
I will be as children are
I will love without question
And I will save myself


About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

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