TBD on Ning

fear of becoming a curmudgeon

and other grim dungeon tales

bless my tortured soul

the things we tell ourselves

sins committed

we only allow outselves to see

while the inself

we hold hostage

the lies we sell ourselves


while quenchless sorrow well serves its needs


not the long haul

stop the bleeding

face your muse

spits on her thumb

wipes my brow

like pick up sticks

twigs in my hair

coming of curmudgeons

roll up your sleeves

it won't stop vagrant indigitives

eyes gone vacant

dugout trenches

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