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VenomSpitter

by Jon Brion

My sense, how their impairment embitters me.
With each rise and fall of my chest do I breathe such failure.
Painting this caricature of decomposition, I have stained the sheets of so fair a berth.
I've wept for aeons in the maelstrom of vile addiction.
The hounds, their symphony accompanies no more; the ties of depravity, my heart now ensnared.
How I have hung my head in regards to such shame, morals conflicting my disposition.
The discoloring of my will, afflicting the neurotransmitters now prevalent in my despair.
With Id-like intent am I enclosed within such parameters.
Though mortified, I am not bewildered.
Colossal defeat, I shall ascend your cliffs again.
I have not yet rested in my grave.
This will not be my undoing.
Thine ashes emcompass me, countess of all repulsions.
In ruin have I fashioned such wounds to forever reconcile these memories.
I will kneel no more.
Oh darkest of venoms, I draw thee out.
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