son tag me

against all interpretation, son tag me dark room child of dusty book images and librarians who smell of soap in between sweaty breasts and son tag me cuban brittle lollipop of grayish guava flavors in between depths of sudden heights and shortness of breath after dancing drippings of floating of sliding more than of typing on la rapidissima drifting on photography I more than a quick etcetera of gliding metaphors of illnesses to come and conquer the glittering bones of these fingers of rattling cuban son and again tag me full encircled by life in constant ellipsis left hanging gliding sliding, against all interpretation

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