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Sep 2016
My synapses are misfiring-
this weight more than gravity.
Depravity’s disastrous grasp,
the exit is not escape.

 Feel the world spinning,
churning on without.
remants, stationed
stagnant and static.

Buzzing in discomfort,
blistering heat
of combustible refuse
left only excuses.

Catatonic catastrophe,
blasphemous bile spews,
purposeless penitent sentiments,
drowning logic in mental mishap.

An exploding star,
Separating fuselage,
limbs detach from frame
Splintering out into space.
Written 9.14.16
Edited/tightened 9.15.16
Ryn
Written by
Ryn  Asheville
(Asheville)   
524
     Ryn, Tyler King, --- and Arcassin B
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