When I extolled the moss-laundered flesh of your arms
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When I inhaled the roiling of your appetite
When I drank myself across your correctives
Then I stumped across limbs to belong to you.
But I am withered now.
I am doxa.
I leap into your fears and thus I am righteousness.
Truncate and own me; wield me as your right arm.
Fold me into your will, so I may rest.
Everything begins with lucid indifference.
Check out my blog -- Better Living through Pedagogy -- at www.mkpotter.com