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Hooves

You are living in an excessive
state of turmoil. You remind me
a lot of feral dogs, of rabid
dogs, because no matter how much
you foam at the mouth, I’ll still
love, console, touch, breathe,
allow, confirm, validate— I’ll still
let you go on believing that you’re
human when we can all see the horns,
the tail, the hooves, the freckled
skin stretched around your doe
neck turning too quickly to
noose rope and red pits.



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