Construct this jigsaw
Laced with your true intentions.
I can't figure out
Who the hell or what the f___ we are.

What is this?
Love poems with Cupid as a martyr?

Collapse under the crushing wonder,
Wonder.

Core curiosity
Drives my stomach eating itself alive
Discovering sweet in the heart of a chameleon
My starving stomach eats itself alive.

This puzzle
Relying on projection.
You can't figure out who the f___,
Or where the hell we are,
Or how to even care.

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