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Landon Velasquez May 2014
Punctured are the lungs I've used for breathing
This seething ever-romantic feeling
The peeling of skin that reveals the concealed
And opens up the undying existence of the unseen
As my own existence is also undying and unseen
My mind and ego trying to convince me otherwise
This is my illusion
Intruding my mind and infecting it with disparity
And with no clarity of what is to come
I drown in fear that I will succumb
Landon Velasquez May 2014
I am not an old man
It is this body that is old
For I am as new as ever
As quick and as clever as my decomposing
mind allows me to be

— The End —