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Aug 2016
An ocean bleeds
Through the spaces
Of my tremulous fingers
I taste decaying sentiment
Tucked beneath ritual
Adrift in reverie, still
Ruptured by the hand of fate
The outskirts of a worn out aria
Cosmic wasteland, lost
Treading backwards
Aftermath of visceral escapism
Faux antidotes
Once veiled in promise.
The Noose
Written by
The Noose  32/F/Standing on the gallows
(32/F/Standing on the gallows)   
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