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This feeling is No longer tradable With rigor mortis In the cartilage of Tiny-spider-toes All-patient-pink. And that beguiling notion, Wearing an anthem From Tartarus-- Evolves us as readers- As we touch the bark and know-- It's the snow that tells us we're cold. Spreading norn's with sheathe-less Silence crafting cobble-stone antics, Through visceral attics And cankering taste-buds.
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
We Who Go To Tartarus
This feeling is No longer tradable With rigor mortis In the cartilage of Tiny-spider-toes All-patient-pink. And that beguiling notion, Wearing an anthem From Tartarus-- Evolves us as readers- As we touch the bark and know-- It's the snow that tells us we're cold. Spreading norn's with sheathe-less Silence crafting cobble-stone antics, Through visceral attics And cankering taste-buds.
Strataic
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 6:20 PM UTC
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