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Jan 2017
You couldn't take me straight.
so like whisky, added icy words
dilute me to be a bit more palatable.
Downing one, two, three.
Until the fire trail
snaking down your throat into your stomach
sets alight.
Forcing up every digested detail
up into the atmosphere.
Detox.
You were Purer without me anyway.
Oskar Erikson
Written by
Oskar Erikson  24/M/London
(24/M/London)   
388
   ---, --- and Joseph Schneider
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