Doubtful cover, confusing index
I haste embodying the lines,
unplugged, reality declines
solitude rushes by reflex.
Of white letters on black paper
the contents spill like a faucet
incessant on flowing off the creator,
rebelling feelings and a dry gullet.
A craving like a need of some sort,
exasperation with no solution or resort
thus i become haunted and daunted
by this companion of trust and illusion,
being wings to antagonize my persecution.
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