Which speed will you find me at when you lap past my bioemissions cascading like a fountain. When I was so thirsty, if you recall, I went to get a glass of water. The faucet was rigged with electricity, seared off my lips and burned in flashes of lines toward my eyes. They burned last, soon after my cheeks, jaw and everything else.
The next day, each time I drove by there, I could smell my burnt face as though it was still smoldering. At first, I thought I smelled a trash fire, but then I realized that my neighbors weren’t the types. You see, I don’t happen to live in a city with neighbors smart enough to realize you can burn your own trash instead of paying taxes to put it into a bin and roll it to the curb so strangers can haul it off and other strangers can root through your remains at the landfill.
This time, they hauled off my sexy scalded red lips, the curlicues and curls of spindle scorch cheek bone. They pieced me back together to gain control of my body and steer me towards new slightly more modern faucets rigged with new forms of electricity.
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