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about

Special thanks to Mia for telling me about the uterus's ability to flex and self clean.

lyrics

Baby it’s sentimental. I’m gonna send you pictures of me not giving a fuck while you take the potted pant we co-created with our union and you smash it on the ground. I flex and wash the soil off me, my body is a uterus. Inside I hold ceramic shards in twin with male aggression, I’m waiting on the storm that breaks the incubation loose. Evidence bears intention, screaming like the beast at the filth that instigation bleeds, the foul necrotic corpse smell of a lost love post relapse intervention. You are everything I don’t need. I flex and watch my fluids draining, my body is a uterus. In time I’ll hold the memories up to light to see transgression, I’m waiting for some distance before looking at my greed.

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