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“A tiny blood vessel on his right hip, shaping a crow´s foot. I´d like to kiss it after he placed his genes and dents inside me. If there wouldn´t be this sticky saggy hack between my lips and his hips. In his navel a spit of a hormonal froth, balancing the fatigue of lusting flesh. A winter night´s frigid breath trembling in silent waves. In a second he will start to coackroach my ankles with the hard skin of his right foot-ball. He will kiss my neck touching, carve is still steaming square of a nose behind my earlobe, rubbing my gluey red hair off my mastoid. Snoaring in my ears after a couple of hours, after playing anew, with lips and hips, following the footsteps of the resting crow, with her pearly blackness in her groaning caw. I can see the cage and her suffocation. Her coat cold sweated brightness. I know what you did to her. But I decide to stay.”