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  • I’m etching a bucket list on the inside of my skin
    I want to have ocean hair, let people hide in it and call it home.
    Create communes with winks and liberation with songs,
    I, I want to plant trees. Trees that grow orgasms, give them out as party favors,
    I want to give a few bucks to every street performer, and sandwiches too.
    I want the aurora borealis tattooed on my eyelids, the grand canyon engraved in my nail-beds and I want my bones to be made out of swan songs.
    I want to erase city lights from my memory, replace them with constellations and forests…
    I grew up with those trees, my age measured by the same rings engraved deep within their bodies. We shared secrets, and as the seasons changed so did our loyalty. And one day I accidently stopped coming. Or was it purposefully? I found a new muse, one that could breathe, one that could break my body and my heart in a way that those trees couldn’t.
    I want my muse back.
    Send it to me in the wind, ill catch it in fishhooks and tie it in my necklace.
    I want abnormality, broken status quos and a plethora of ironies.
    Give me abnormality or give me death I’ll say.
    I want you-
    And I want flowers, lilies preferably.
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