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[peramble]

My room is filled with dying moths, my mouth is full of spluttering coughs, and my skin is a cracked, overexposed earth. My heart is a bruised nectarine that was squeezed carelessly by a child. Its sweetness odors the air and you know decay is near

Comments

[cloudsobscured]

You should read this at a poetry/spoken word thingie. very worthy.

[peramble]

Thank you.