anti-lit

The poetry and prose of David Tolkacz.

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Wednesday, August 12, 2026

A doll of its own [bio-generated poetry]






You're often crying

I can put you together any way I want

You pray with your knuckles white
to get the fuck away

But the needle won't come out
and the cycle continues


Until the cold void your soul becomes

Through relentless suffering

Seeks a doll of its own to dismember
Posted by David Tolkacz at 1:32 PM No comments:
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