Money is self-comprehending,
take a hard look in the mirror,
your brow is brutal, your teeth are for meat,
your eyes are globes and hunched beneath them
is my ghost who blinks them shut, who pulls out
your tears, I’m finished. We’re finished.
Go outside and play, but if you come
knocking on my door when you’re done
don’t be surprised if I say Who’s there?
And if you keep pushing, and dare
name yourself here’s a warning—
they call it a punch line because I punch you
in the fucking face if you step over the line.
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