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no gods no masters a machine named dennis (Remove filter)

doctorate (3/14/15)

knees shaking,
wet pieces of manilla paper
guts quaking
use the scalpel and the scraper.
honed flesh,
separate piles
flay the waste of our race
measured in miles.

even me; especially me
worth so much less as pounds of flesh
storyless, shapeless leather
put out to pasture in famine weather.

molting, shucking, jumping free
each reduction, reduced
further from the itchy wet skins ...

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no gods no masters a machine named dennis

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