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Food, Bloody Food


walker

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Our secret stability

fills no hollow.

So much more always

slipping down

with merest hint

if impact.

Medicating confection

offers a glance

at curing

what is such

an inoperable void.

Shame eats shame,

hiding even from itself,

illicit sugars

poured in,

seemingly creating

endless caverns.

Catastrophic cure

that weakens,

sickens,

and grows ill.

WE HATE FOOD

WE HATE NEEDING FOOD

WE HATE BEING LIKE THIS

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sort of feel that having a crutch after so much change and years of s**t aint so bad and one that can be worked on over time, and so so so wonderful to see your poetry again. ss

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And against all the odds, all the melancholy, and the obvious consequences of actions................all this.................. and you still produce a beautiful, insightful and thought provoking poem..................the word Goddess springs to mind!! :)

LOVING, as always, anything that comes from a beautiful mind!!

Txxx

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