handful of maggots in lieu of a receipt

i feel
disconnected
dismissed
dismissive
disenfranchised
disingenuous
disliked
disliked
disliked
.
hated
.
the ceiling
holds
no answers
anxiety
has me
by the balls
squeezing
whispering
naughty
thoughts
it isn’t
paranoia
if you
are out
to get
youself
.
dissolved
in my own
discourse
discussing
disparities
distinterested
in donning
disambiguous
distresses
.
i feel
disembodied
separate
yet hole
holy
in wholly
sinful
ways
.
i could
happily
lick
every
luscious
inch
of you
lavish
my tongue
by feasting
upon
your
perfect
frame
.
but i am
incorporeal
.
the ceiling
teases
my sorrow
with
the hint
of your
lips
as i
go
mad
in your
absence
.
hated
and
unsure

why
.
am i
real
or
a mason jar
half filled
with
random
junk
over valued
by
reminiscent
remembrance
.

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