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Apr 24
No swaddling,
but straight into a corroded armor,
to be filled with deeds
etched by the Devil's engraver.
Thoughts that offend
grow out of proportion,
like stalactites
fed by infected drops
on walls of decay.
An incessant interference
dissolves continuity.
Written by
Marco Langmann  59/M/London
(59/M/London)   
53
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