when you grab his arm
and make him smaller
than he believes he is
and you make him, you know,
spin in the same peculiar
space never finding
the exit way that so
painfully burns in his chest
and you smile, you know,
when you see yourself
winning at a game at which
you have the disadvantage
because at any given moment
he will step up
and change it and change you
and leave you behind to feed
on your starving desperation.
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