Somebody’s Heaven

She’s home.
Her body aches for arms resilient so that she can take in and store some of that brawn for tomorrow – all her grand designs adequately pursued today. Now, she retires to the familiarity of your stability. She is the parasite. You are the gifted – the caliber people tell to run from weapons like her. But you enjoy the carnage, the violent dance. You know you do, innocent pretender. And so here you are.


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