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Austin Heath
Poems
Sep 2016
"Rottenhearted."
Less than a question,
stuck playing all the old games;
a face carved from wood.
Stuck playing midnight,
quoting Castro on hunger;
Loss of appetite crucial
to understand
the feeling of having none,
but this is just greed.
I eviscerate
and consume nothing, woeful.
Flesh does not have me.
Ticking Casio,
breathing time into nonsense.
Digital. Solid.
Written by
Austin Heath
Cleveland, OH
(Cleveland, OH)
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