Do NOT read

This loathsome work of fiction is a dream of sorts...

Wednesday, 13 February 2019

Belbin's bumh0le - a #poem

I lay on the spike
in the mud in the pit
at the bottom of the hole
& I felt my oldness leave
as the breath stopped steaming
& my hands grew cold
as the wound stopped streaming
as the darkness came
& I couldn't, for the life of me,
remember my own name.

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