Open hands and open paws,
And hooves, and open claws,
And all arms and my goosey down,
And branches reaching broad,
To end wanting what walks through town
So I'll not hear that enticing sound of approaching voices
I turn me off. I cut my hands off. I close eyes off.
I turn me off. I cut my hands off.
So. No more hugging in the kitchen,
No more pats on the back in the hall.
No more chest on breasty chest in shower stall.
No more lip on nape of neck behind the curtain.
No more craving curving hips on my belly.
I hope to not want, and for to hope to not haunt.