its back, smiling.
its back. that feeling.
that sticks to your skin like
revolting sweat in the tropics.
that familiar stench,
the familiar irk.
yet i like it.
like how massages feel
repulsive yet soothing.
i smile at it, yet
i wish to tear from
seething just below the skin.
it smiles back.
i want to lash out but
i'm bound by social ropes.
it smiles in my face,
i can feel its breathe
yet cannot gnarl back like
an itching sore on your back.
Uncle T
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