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Desolation walks with me,
it is the maggot that
slinks about in the third ventricle
and the fourth.
it bores into the grey.
Its palps shovel in
and goodness
and hope...
it finds
particularly palatable.
It chews its way into my
auditory meatus and
taps on my tympanum, "-.. .. ."
in the
cavernous space
it echoes again,
"-.. .. ."
and again.
and again...
until the thrumming
sound is
all I can hear.

12 May 16

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I really like some of your turns of phrase and language here! Your subject is quite blaring, a little like a constant screeching. Maybe if the fire alarm's going of 24 hours a day you should call maintenance. Cheers.
 — Known

I can really connect with the sentiments you express...Very well put

Larry wired Lark
 — larrylark

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 — Gabrielly