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Poem: Thick Thighs by Garser Dismuke

This spaghetti is too liquidy. It needs to be thicker like my thighs.
They’ve gotten wider this summer but I like it that way.
The girls love it so there's no point in killing their desires.
Trapped in the house I let the world spin around me.
Never looking at the flashing rays of the sun or the dim lights of the street poles.
I hope I can mend my broken soul with these lyrical band aids.
They don't hurt when ripped off but they leave behind glue in exchange for the black colored aura.
My pants won't fit unleash I grease my legs but at the end of summer, I know my soul can walk again





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