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May 2013
the patterns of your skin are burnt
(into my mind)
the odd taste of yesterday
those glazed over eyes that shed like snake skin
my foreign fingers
sending the unbalanced words
to your ears
mercury
mortar
saliva and vanity
it’s a slow collapse from you
Moe
Written by
Moe  M/earth
(M/earth)   
524
   Dreiliece, Amber S and Mercy B
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