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Comments about Tim Phillips
There's a rat that lives in her stomach:
Chewing her entrails,
Gnawing her liver.
It was born and grew inside her:
Clogging her bowels,
Cramping her spleen.
Like a cuckoo in a lark's nest:
Stretching her body,
Stealing her song.
It feeds on her every moment:
Seizing her hunger,
Smothering her mind.
Discarding her used and wasted:
Dismissing her memories,
Discharging her life.
The waves of her breath receding,
As in finite time her tide goes out.