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Kenneth Everett Rathburn
Poems
Dec 2014
Loathing
Here I hear
Those foul voices
in the air.
Spitting putrid
Toxic to the ear
Nearly as much
as the mind.
Purification expensed
for the sake of inner chaos.
There's a storm I face
Night upon night
When the vacant spots
must be filled.
Desire yields growth
for these cavernous seeds
Roots sinking
every passing moment
Left to waste.
Written by
Kenneth Everett Rathburn
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