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Thursday, September 15, 2011

A Sick House



I never knew the taste of home
could taste so much of vomit
in my throat.
I never knew that missing it,
could make my heart lose sleep.
swimming to get back,
reaching to get back;
I retch at the hole inside me,
burning at the whisps
of things left behind.
I never knew the taste of home
Could make myself so small;
and all that's left is
black and soft.
It chokes me with revulsion.

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