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Mar 2013
Innards twist
like salt on a slug.
Phlegm boils out
of sundried orifices.
Maggots find
a fresh fancy feast.
Once witnessing
eyeballs turn to prunes.
Flush turns pallid-- transparent.
The fine line between
has thus been crossed.
We're dead now.
Now is gone.
All gone.
Zach Claycomb
Written by
Zach Claycomb  Pennsylvania
(Pennsylvania)   
902
   CG and ---
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