Purity

Find me.
There’s this animal staring at me, my mouth.
I don’t think it’s dangerous. More like, annoying.
I want to run and create a hard impact into a permanent fixture.
It’s gotten into my head this way.
Leave my mark on something dark, and wet, and glistening, and maybe red?
I speak for me, “I fell down some stairs” I . . .

Sorry, it just sneezed and I couldn’t speak when it blinked.
I don’t want to hurt it. Who does it belong to?
Even flies and moths can fly away until they’re SMASHED thoughtlessly.
Who owns you?
Come find it.

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