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addiction

Through a forest of
Perfect figurines
I am led to my room
With monsters
Under my bed
And wraiths in my head
Would someone here
Save me from
Myself?

This drug in me
Is a drink most
Rare. Fermented
Flesh. And the
Eyes of a window-
Less house.

There is no moon
Tonight. And she
Mocks me with
Her back turned.

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4 thoughts on “addiction

  1. Again it seems like your poems are saying so much, I only have time to feel the emotions the words cause, I cant slow it down to fully grasp which of many ideas it could be.
    who is “she”? just that is going to bug me endlessly.
    And also? I dont even want you to tell me who “she” is.
    Its interesting that it made me wonder.
    Good stuff.

    • thanks! i am saying alot! 😉 thanks for noticing.

      i’d tell you who “she” is, but then I’d have to kill u.
      she is many things. 😉 when she is “too” many things, it’s a bad day.

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