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  • Writer's pictureAndrew M. Davis



The possibility of slow intoxication,

A living obliteration,

A progression of blindness screaming your name.

Closed ears cant hear.

Forgotten how to feel.

A slave numb to touch.

Afraid to bite for their is no taste.

How soon do you realize

A senses fail?

Realization hold nothing.

If only you could sail back

Only faster than you left.


The possibility of life,

The opportunity to live.

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