after
basking
in
solitude
for
days
to
sit
in
a
chair
in
a
room
full
of
people
is
like
being
bound
to
the
rungs
&
then
pounded
upon
by
a
mob
each
inane
thing
out
of
their
mouth
another
fist
in
the
gut
their
laughter
like
some
bitch
scratching
her
ugly
long
nails
along
yr
face
over
&
over
baudelaire my flesh is on fire tonight
baudelaire my flesh
is on fire tonight
i've come down
w/ ringworm
my skin itches
from my forehead
to my shins
the nurse said
don't scratch
but these parasites
are squatting
on my body
eating my cells
red patches like
cigarette burns
like cigar holes
if i itch it spreads
like pockets of death
across my shape
baudelaire i have
a weak liver
& bad teeth
i'm full of panic
sex starved
& always on
the verge
of going
over the edge
& now these
invisible shits
are eating me alive
but baudelaire
look how my bile shines
in my fucking lines!
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