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Amethyst
Amethyst
Jul 30, 2017 · 1 min read

Decelerometer.
A pan. A pot.
Six crystals of Ambregris.
Decussate thy intestines over my.
Surrender, surrender, surrender.
Back to the isle of no man.
Abate my bodily fever and delate.
Of death, of death, of death.
A grebe. A tote bag.
Fly to space’s nadir.
Cry for me. Lick my blood. Lick my tears.
Of birthmark, of cotton, of horns, of a nose.
Lick saffron off my iris.
Organ mutation and inborn thoughts.
Rosemary and thym, burnt sage, burnt clove, burnt the skin off your hands.
Of birth, of birth, of birth.
Let us both live, let us both die; one atop the other, bathing in salt and love.
آمين

Amethyst

Written by

Amethyst

Loves the smell of Amber, Tar, dried Absinthe and wood. Has a knack for describing what vaginas taste like.

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