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Patrick Tincher


Unearthed Casket


My throat is an unearthed casket
With the lid propped open
Its morbid contents left to dry
Maggots and worms squirming across the decaying flesh
An unholy miasma grips spectators with frore hands
Flies swarm from my mouth
A buzzing drone accompanies putrid breath
Even the most beautiful things I utter
Are put to shame by your Absolute Truth

Submitted: Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Edited: Wednesday, October 26, 2011
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