Monday, 16 January 2012

I've hit an end,
run into a wall,
i've coughed everything,
out, up.

nearly croaked,
but instead,
and up came my tumor,
a heart shape,
a saviour.

all the death,
lurching wet,
out of me.

I am forced,
to confront,
to stare...
blank white canvas,
dead white flesh.

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