Tire marks that look like bruises.
Unhealthy laughter jerks and oozes.
Her tongue trips you up like a delicate rug
Roll it off your shoulders with a sickening shrug.
Your heart-warming children with their hungry pot bellies
Call you by your first name and work in the deli.
Stop chewing on Big Brother, your lips are getting sore.
Wipe reality from your mouth,
because fiction is the cure.
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