The disaster is coming.

My mouth

Is spoken

But hollow

And torn


With evil


And thoughts

And peeled

Inside, the 

Tongue and 


Flaked away

Like skin dying

In the sun.

Sin is sometimes

The only thing

 I eat, less

Calories, slim waist,

And I take

That quick image

With my eyes

Like it’s the only

Picture worth


Grant me


Dead serpents,

Clean air,

A fiery heart.

Because no

Good deed goes


Let me know 

The punishment,

Like I know

The hard parts

Of the dark.

Get Wordy

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