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 Shall I translate loneliness?

And respell its depths?

Just so that it is nothing but me wholesome.

And it is no longer a freight I behold.

Just so that it floats in my veins

And ooze out through my chafed wounds.

Just so that it is alluring in crimson 

Than somber in nonentity

Just so that it exists in corporeal

To walk across senility

To scorn at the deceit

And to glimmer at the defunct anecdote

That was once divine.


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