Mixtapes
vibrate,
inoculate,
that which we hate
but can’t escape
it is our fate.
Humming a tune
and strumming a beat,
too cool for me
downcast defeat.
Roll down slow—
aftermath,
afterglow,
wish I knew
but I don’t know
how it goes.
Slip slide sinister
against
sultry smooth skin—
catch a glimpse,
pull you in
way down low,
sweet dirty
s l o w
children at play
hasten the day
the world went away.
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