You grew a beard in my dream
last night, switched sexes
and declared yourself
as yourself
in a final sense. One hazy
night a month ago you
possessed my lover's body;
becoming her. Blonde hair dyed
black, tan skin
drained fishbelly pale.
What are you doing? I haven't
spoken to you in years and
don't intend to. In my dreams
you're like a man found facedown
in a pile of shit and trash,
enjoying himself. My own face
in the between the burger wrappers
and puss.
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