Contest Poe in the style of Plath
sponsor Tom Woody
I see no reason for this toxic state other than hate or desired submission found in my dream where a kiss upon the heart is a rusty chain hanging on walls of circumstance a vision within a vision wrapped around my throat making it hard to breathe Oh! That this dream be more than a quagmire of unreasonable eyes that drip toxic tears into a bottomless pit of shadows that wait for my passion's decision while they hang a broken wreathe on tombstones that is this dream, that is this toxic state of raven's beaks that pluck at the heart's flesh tearing, tearing, always tearing until the blood is gone, gone, forever gone
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