Fog Visceral Blind
Nette Onclaud
Eight By Eight
08/01/2026
You laugh, yet I see gray mist pool
behind your eyes, thick, raw, and choked -
a rotting smoke that drowns your throat.
You grin through teeth to hide the blood,
you fight the tide, you choke on ash.
I see the wounds you scrub to bone,
the quiet war that eats your mind;
it is always here, always there...
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