I am the crippled boy. I have the lagging foot and the jerking knee. You have fixed your teeth in my lame heart and your lips never touch the meat. Your smile cut from Cosmo with a razor betrays no one, offends no one, pleases no one; it is inert as the polished enamel of your incisors. I play with deep subjects cached in my pockets. In the cloister of my bedroom I have hidden my marbles behind the socket facing. They are inert as the lead scales that skin your heart. You, daughter of the bunny hutch and society's page, come to me, come in the waking day and I will know you. No vow need rob us of love, nor tender caress wake us from our viscous dreaming, nor genuine embrace hold us from our fond-handed good-night, sweet lady.
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Warren Wedin firstname.lastname@example.org