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shiny objects

Thursday, September 23, 2004


This little sepulcher cough, he
Claws my chst with a petulant wheeze;
I shudder
and struggle to breath,
Each crackling gasp
A mere tease that seeps
At a pace that makes my
Diaphragm seize
Feeble fists to my ribs
Hands and knees to
Floor to chair
To wall to bed
I ease into sheets
And despair




*hacks up bloody sputum*


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