will atlas


A Sun Dried Stew

Shades drawn, tendons singing correlation to the notes of sockets bassing
Humming my third person sweet nothing's.blanking out, staring out, drowning out the gravity of my position.

I am the fly on the wall. watching my hungers inhibitions enthrall.
Portioning my greatest feast, enticing as my souls skin crawls.

How tough the meat is it's seemingly easy to chew, through my manic eyes my teeth are at ease.
My third screaming in the horrors released, I drown the nagging with the ravenous

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