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perverted desires twisting
themselves into a rope
and you festoon it
around your neck
a bullet to your head—
it's time for bed!
cyanide greeting the
corridors of your mouth
and you embrace it
with open arms.
vision grows clearer
but your sight is blurry:
the bells are ringing,
your summons is here!
wear your cloak before
you hesitate again.
circumlocutory notes would not do
when I've decided to go is only true.
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