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Come, open.

This fear we all have,

thick like mud, caked,

forms a skin around us.

Encased. Ugly.

It’s putrid stink the better part of what we know to be true. 

Our pores soak it in,

it fucks us from being free. The great decider of honesty, contentment, 


We are filthy in its darkness, addicted.

You scum. 

She is the decider. She, with the blue mind and the pink, pink heart. 

She, with the washcloth to your chin. Cleanser of souls, opener of ribs. 

Bask, and breathe. Bathe away. 

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