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A Wresting Of Flesh

It feels like pigskin;
a Shanghai
hijack
of this tanned
torn hide
so tattered

Tapestries iron themselves
into me
invading
fell & foul

Howling from
an anti-flaying
inhaling slough
down...down...
Dragging decay
so curdled -
to shriveling lungs (shrieking)
raking past my tongue
It scalps away
the sane
the humane...

Awaking to eerie
inverse dawns
like T. Leary theories;
Though, infected...
fresh fungal flesh feastings
feed me
another cordyceps day

The Eternal Darkness Of The Squalid Mind
Written by AtoMikbomb
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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