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Saturday, June 15, 2013

Because…

Place: 17th place in Creative Writing

The darkness washes over me,
Like it drips through leaves,
On a cool summer’s night,

I am puke, I am a bug,
I am everything and nothing,
But a stain on a table in the backyard.

There is no meaning, and there is no purpose,
There are designs and anarchy and pools of shit,
But in the end,

We are all one swirl closer to the bottom of the bowl,
The bug on the precipice of eating the light,
The last sigh of an orgasm,

Waiting to end.

Posted by deminizer on 06/15 at 02:27 AM | Permalink
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