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Comments about Dori Martin
The Indulgence Cycle
I indulge myself with what will never exist.
It is the bittersweet cake that leaves you feeling shameful and sick.
I erase the blurry line between true and false,
Giving myself this destructive gift, in secrecy.
I feel the depths that are nothing,
And devise the addictive conversations I have only with myself.
Reaching, touching, but my eyes betray me.
I create who you are.
The excuses, the details, are my works of art.
I listen to every word.
I study every move because I know there is proof in what is not said.
I find it and indulge ...