“Occult Infatuation”

There’s a demon in your television,

and an angel in your mouth.

I can taste your lungs,

black as anything.

Your shadow,

white,

sanctifying your sins.

You,

with your collarbone and leather wrists.

I can feel your poisoned vertebrae,

quivering beneath my hands.

Steel ribs,

cutting off my breathing.

Turning me blue.

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