yeah, the weeping machine makes the other thing, makes the thing that does not weep, like a husband makes a wife/like salty makes sweet/like a wrong makes a right
I need you
tremblefaster, gangrenous you
I'm not made of putty
I shouldn't have been
I shouldn't have
I made a thing that made you
made you a thing that fits in a place against my clack-clacks
snuggle my ribs
I made myself
to undo myself
I made a thing of me to make a thing of you
now who's left to want us?
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