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Aug 2020
My skin is plastic. My veins are rubber.
I might melt in the boiling summer heat.
Each day I grow weaker. I'm closer to corpse.
Let's move to the desert where death looms
in shower stalls with scorpions and coiled
snakes in rare shade just waiting for us.
William J Donovan
Written by
William J Donovan  75/M/Charlotte, NC
(75/M/Charlotte, NC)   
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