What comes at me, out of me, or better, Neighbor

I lay across my hands with no air. What comes at me, come out
of me, or better, Neighbor. What my head filled with trains of
action potentials, what filled my blood with iron, I blow them
out a further, a sever, a split, a cut. I lay across my legs with no
Our knucks. My knucks drag up to something slowly. I blow
out as further as possible what my head filled blood as I have
ever known it, knuckles up. I blow up to something now,
slowly leaning forward against, ‘til all my Our, one at with air,
‘til fill my mouth with old hiss hoot jeer, till give me
something, ‘til something gave.

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