The Line

I am for the crossing of lines.

Of propriety.

And smelliness.

I will put my nose in your face and sniff your eyeballs. For to see if you’re only sleeping or dead.

I will sit directly in front of you

and watch you poop.

I will wait outside the glass door

while you shower.

I will always cross the line with you, Bald Man.

Until we run out of the lines for to cross.

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