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my fire..
It's heartburn, its ulcers its cancer its death, my stomach it heaves in a fire, a breath.
It never stops churning, a circling, the fire below sends my hairs and spine curling.
A vast blackness it is, in my pit of all places! it strips poise and cool from expressionless faces. I'm a mad man on acid as my heart careens through suicide, while my mind likes to tell me that God is on my side, but even God would not wish this on me, for I am a sinner, all of dead to He.
I wish not to feel, not to hear, not to gaze, The fire kills all, kills hours, kills days!
I wish I could stop! Die! Freeze! Break into pieces and be done with these ways, For my fire comes back every three days or so.
It burns me alive, and it won't let me go..
__________________
"Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead."
-Gene Fowler
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