your/you’re disease.

You advance like an alien being
Your body pushed forward through space
Awkwardly graceful
Atop solid, organic, mechanical limbs
Powered by the sun

Smooth curves has your craft
And bright, shiny windows
From which you gleam
As you absorb my world
With shutters cracked

I’ll meet you in another realm, alien girl
Your very own dimension
Where germs do not exist
Because I do
Not ever want
To be
Sick

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