LETTER TO THE FATHER Now that my lord more closely resembles a hunk of meat with two eyes turned toward the dark ceiling from the gurney where likely you will not die alone only because not even able to swallow your saliva yourself in the company of this tube alone that feeds you I ask myself if mother’s ban against confessing to my lord the amorous habits of my mucous membranes is still in place and if indeed you would love me the less you knew about how much rubbing…
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