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  1. Congenial Organism

    Poetry Abysmal Apathetic Apocathery

    The solemn grows and these walls - they speak. Creaking, rapping, ever-so just slightly tapping. Two small pools of the liquid sit in the distance that stretches farther each day. My arms outstretched and like habit, it is done. I will hang for you another page upon the wall for the eyes to see...
  2. Congenial Organism

    Poetry Abysmal Apathetic Apocathery

    The sound of silence, deafening to my ears. Without that tall liquid friend, the washed nights become vivid again - and with that so do the feelings. Ever-pressed into the deep folds of my mind to sit and fester. I feel the pressure like frigid depths, my jubilation waning. Soon it will start -...
  3. Congenial Organism

    Poetry Abysmal Apathetic Apocathery

    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and wrought... I sit here with a thought will my prose and rhythm save me? Once too many-a-times I asked is this worth it, and will I last? Sharp words and cluttering verbs are all too much when it's a bit absurd. With these fingers, I write...
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