Born with a Perforated Edge

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The last vestige of your sweet, masked poison
Penetrates the vestibule encasing
These fragile remains of my moth-eaten
Heart. Yet true danger lies in the lacing
Of such sacred venom tightly with my
Unsaturated blood. I’m not able,
In loud solitude, to identify
How your liquor tricked my untenable
Flesh by disseminating through pseudo-
Symbiotic means. For this fierce acid,
While sustaining, is also de facto
Ephemeral - I must achieve placid
Convalescence to regain consciousness.
But to smother a dead flame is hopeless.





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