Took a long way
to sever the umbilical
chord vibrating
in the gordian plot
of this miserable, despicable
exercise of style.
A waste land
of inner wearing
makes me shiver
in the sleepless
ravening.
The minimal match
is the key
to any feeling,
to any breeding.
A long walk in the cold night,
wind filming the eyes with resentment.
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