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Aug 2017
Muse bares its teeth, snarls, snaps, rips the head back…
Chewing through the spinal cord and lapping up the brain fluid.
An image not so commonly played in the desert mind, riddled with mirages.
Empty and lost searching for new meat, left starving and dishevelled,
There is nothing new here, battling with the repetitive beat of ancient drums;
Beats making no sound, only vibrations that rattle the ribcage dripping rotten flesh.
My boyfriend is helping to get back into the rhythm of writing again so he gave me 20 minutes to write absolutely anything down, nonsense or not. And after arguing with him for 10 minutes (wasting half of my time and doubting myself like crazy) what you see before you is what emerged.
Written by
Madds  Melbourne
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