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Jul 2011
so faint,
this feeling,
concealing the self
the key, the gate.
this phantom of fate.


awake?
maybe... not "if seen more before."
how could life keel over so.
chore like choir,
shifting shore,
at core.
endure.
in door.
..snore.
hot magma.

still?


para-lapse.
"who's here"
-yelling like this
bathroom floor canΒ Β feel.

-hear, hear-

nothing .
the embrace....then death.
again till breath,
bleach white birth.
touching earth.

Suspense....
Justin Ansardi
Written by
Justin Ansardi
739
 
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