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Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Free From All Avarice

A Terpsichore of macabre
By the ember apparitions
All around to suffuse me
With their sepulchral desires
Started long back to engulf me
In its saturnine cadaverous arms
Ripping apart even the brumous shadow
Of hope for a living psyche
A palisading bedlam of desires
Exacerbating the only miniscule
Promise of love and life
Asking me to bequeath
All my impressions of being
In this masquerade of apathetic
Existences with no implications
Blithely I cede my corpse to it
And take away the demented soul
With me to my grave
Imbed it there inside the dirt
To set it free from all avarice

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