Why is this so slow
I used to writeNot daily,
But dosed
Like percs and coke
Like ripping out your own veins
And replacing them with this hold
Like these words
These things
These fucking dreams
That bind you to their mold
And shape you
Create you
In their own gleam
And make into you
Their own
But i don't see
Or feel
That old lingering
Feeling of dread
But still, am surprised
When i don't feel
That reading any of this fed
That old beast
That monster
That should be,
Rightfully laying dead
Poetry by Elliot
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Written on 2017-08-05 at 07:02
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ken d williams |
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by ElliotLatest textsYou readers, yes youA simple lack A Voyage Nature made Why is this so slow |
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