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I was baby-sitting years ago and found this poem of my experiences, combined with my own memories.
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Every window is closed,every body disposed,the carpets are flayed and soakedlike the skin of my teeth.Loud, strident in contemptof those who did attem..
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The air is ripe with human mistakes,the sakura wilts upon first inhalation.Acid lines the membranes of our lakes,we are drowning in our procrastinatio..
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As I ink these words to this paper,I become keenly aware of my artand its degradation into safersonnets, comfortable and boring... art.This isn't pape..
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Sadness.
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Something lyrical and structured for a change.
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Inspired by Allen Moore, gallows humor and coffee.
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I looked in my pool at night.
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I took the time to relax, close my eyes one day and thought this up.
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A reflection on my illness, the diagnosis and the music that made me face my fate.
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