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Aug 2018
i fear all my next poems will be
filled with despair
the quiet weight of a horse no longer to be shared
the clangs of falling down pans over
spilt (milk) diarrhea
the falling out of words meant for good intentions & affairs
i'm so empty of creativity. i don't even recognise myself.
a mcvicar
Written by
a mcvicar  F
(F)   
157
   gooliyyer and ---
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