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Jan 2021
A tangled mess
Sucker punched by my own blow hard suckers
Each scrape a deep wound full of poison and rapture
If I could but belt out this volcano of regret that burns deep
Perhaps I could take just one solitary breath that did not taste of you
That wasn't a constant reminder of
What. Could. Be.
Sea witch hair scattered every which where
Like seaweed jamming traffic along the ragged edge of reef
Is there a volunteer?
Someone willing to rehinge this off-the-rails oddity
That is and is not before you
A dead sea of guilty shade
Heavily armored
With fathomless depths of rage and remorse
Written by
Wanderer  Between Midnight and 3am
(Between Midnight and 3am)   
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