Steam and Hoopla
looking into the bloodshot eyes of loneliness
i witness things so gross and sweltering
the coldness of the footprints on my existence no longer injures me
the depth of my impatient hunger applies for aid not even close to distantly present
the best bet is to massage the cramps now defiant with no other choice
i bleed from the voice box praying in timelessly endless continuum
i may die from the stress of wishing for a wish's cure....
nevertheless, here i go once again with steam....knee deep in the hoopla....
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