and blood spills.

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rage
quiet, rumbling
at first
the stricken skin,
the puddle water,
the electric current.
meeting each other for drinks,
underneath veiny skins,
my temples are pulsing.

quick,
find contentment.
contention?
contentment.
it’s in the blood,
the scarlet, crimson truth,
the rushing water,
pulsating,
steady...steady,
split.

i remember the rage.
the quiet at first,
the trace of tender,
the red.

how quickly i forget,
when it starts up again.






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