these pieces scattered here
are staying, lying here.
& though i've grown so tired -
the circling never stops.
pouring, pouring -
can't say where it goes from here.
i want more & i want less
and i want things too much.
i want him & i want air
and i'm still watching where
i've been before like
praying with the porcelain whore.
would you meet me on my knees
if i let on that's where that i've wound up?
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