Thursday, August 1, 2013

Perpetuated Sturbridge Wretched Village

The locks are on the doors.
Check for mycelium on the
lining of my esophagus.
I know what I mentioned in the title,
but it is not how you think
a poem will end up.
Where I started is a totally
different state of mind.
If you cannot understand that,
then please leave.

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