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A brisk *****, and the blood begins to accumulate around my index finger.  
The man smiles, and says "That will do just fine."
Tick tock
**** that clock
stupid face why do you mock...

empty seconds
wasted hours
vases full
of wilted flowers

Pointed fingers
judging me
as grasping hands
won't set me free

Pendulum
without the pit
counts me a fool
with surreal wit

wooden case
unlined with silk
the stench of death
and soured milk

funeral dirge
in hourly toll
breaks my heart
destroys my soul

In a(na)log
I pen farewell
and spend my time
alone in hell
Moving a little closer
sharing a moments grace,
of warmth against your body
and the beauty of your face.
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