Two shiny shots from my double muzzle glass.
I take a few more, some how hours pass.
Always with the rabbit, he’s running out of time.
I painted the canvas, you’re whittled in my mind.
I hung the painted canvas, wishing you were mine.
“Behold, I’m fine!” is what I’ve written to my lover.
Take the sheets and have me swinging in the room.
I’ve got a feeling it’ll feel just like the womb.
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