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MOTV Jan 2017
Exhaled.
Comes out the mist.
The cloud, that gorge within.
Imploding, eroding, exploding,
upholding higher stature.
Into the sky, real high is where
the eye meets the heat of
demise.
Puff out the world with
one **** then fall into the bliss,
at ease.
We broke.
My soul
unfolds
into
nothingness,
twisting as spirit falls
into an abyssal flow
tantrum tonic taboo talking
oh living so obnoxious.

— The End —