Raw dough and Warhol

Heartburn because it’s Thursday
and I rationalize making cookies
to help mask whatever is happening
with my skin as I prepare to be social

A tiered jewelry box
filled with scratched pearls
and dinged diamonds
is no match
for raw dough on the tongue-
it helps my hips to settle,
distracting me from Warhol’s vampire battler
fucking me against the wall
(to save my life of course)

That may have been a memory
or a fantasy,
no matter

I missed my Wednesday ramble
but no one else did,
reminding me we’re all fallalery
(shining at least some of the time)

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