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Dec 2019
Blood rush,
Brain chained,
Teeth tied,
And here I sit

Scent
Intoxicating
Invading
Smoking out defense

Those succulent dimples,
That clicking mind,
That husky hooking voice.
Substitutes of a hungrier passion.

I feel lost,
I want some,
I need to forget.

Obsession is unbecoming,
Unwanted internal conflict
Ripe with dead dreams
Fighting harsh realities

Simplicity is all I want,
But each day
that lie
gets harder to say.

You are living
In my space
Without payment.
Leave me, please.
Written by
M Grant Teague  35/M
(35/M)   
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