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ritualistic envy

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sinking feeling

settling

spirals rise to

the cold surface like

sweet seltzer in a

glass, then tipped over

make it last

stomach acids

feeling placid

feeling rancid

left aghast

.

sinking feeling

screaming

stipples reek of

rare senescence, faint

scented like for the

mass, bold incenses

yet won’t last

sickened silence

feeling spastic

feeling plastic

left aghast

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Filed under Poetry