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A Written Project

THE HAUNTING
Thoughts of you – they have their home,
they swell in me like wounds.
Amil Segovia

Life plunked like a fucking weed of death.

These last eight months have been taxing on my inner self and strength. I have never felt weakness as I have lately.

Mentally defeated. Physically. Incapable. Spiritually inept. Deprived of any motivation to do anything.  I barely could look at my self in the mirror. Feelings of discus. The shame of what I have become,

Reading these words back; they leave the foul taste and stank of vomit within my mouth, down the back of my throat; that chocking stench. Belittling. Demoralizing. A skeleton of bones was remaining.

 

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