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For she. 23 December 1992 (2011)

I am disgusted with your sympathy, Your sick and twisted darkness of your stale and stagnant mind. I can find no way in your reason, You turn me out upon the floor. My strugling breath, Your led paint words, Your race to old age,Your face full of teeth, Your bones that pierce my visage in moments of embrace.Your spreading disease,your blind friend who leads you to the dark corner of your playground. Your platted tongue,Your tie-died brain.You find the summer, to search the juice,To taste the bad fruit.



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