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Twinkling Parallax

Poems, prose, short fiction, and other rubbish.

And So At The End Of All Things

Posted by Prester John Saturday, October 10, 2009 at 5:53 PM

She flushed herself with crimson
She gassed your hidden chamber
She took the knife and cut you out
And spat your sign as cancer

Looks like
you played
too long

 

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