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Sep 2012
I will die in this forest of gray.
Growling, craving,
gnawing on callused hearts for their heat.

Appendages clawing,
reaching to the point of breaking for the

soft floating seraphs

that hang in the sky
like slats of meat,
left for the beasts to salivate
and hunger for the meat of their own.
Written by
TJ King  Portland, Or
(Portland, Or)   
592
 
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