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TETSUO'S EGG-YOLK

Samhain's spoken proses heard :
Twas estranged sockets electric,
Which sparked the rod rusted on the edge inside of us, moss haze won't to never be moist again . . .
Mucked within a mörk, silver liquid through flames, around such venamun, spills the gas, across soot ridden decay of hard oak ground -
Wooden oldroot poise with the Stonemason's Citadel, Molten steel yet the cold weeping of mother's tears on top the said concrete.
The harshness of rock-solid branches, the misshapen drudge, protruded from my cuffs, but a visceral noise which may shackle me onto barristered bars -
And as I Cirrhose my own sleep, I shall be dream a dream with machine engineered irrational constructs of abstract mind . . .
Written by doreenheimer (Aether)
Published
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