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The Variation Feb 2018
Lonely voices tear at me,
Sibilent whispering with no end.
Caress my collarbone,
Taste every inch of the skin.

Asinine bleeding, lost on me,
Raging fire inside my skull.
Corrupting and rusting
my being inside.

Beautiful afflictions **** the mind,
Rancid and fleeting, indiscriminate.

In nobis mortuus deambulatio,
Morbus animorum detracta.

Requiem lost among the dead,
Dreamers lose hope after drought,
Rectifying the overdose.

— The End —