Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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All this fucking sin squeels
Like a pig gutted in the
charnel house
and you
you dive like the sun at the
failure of day,
a bastard clinging to the light
you never deserved,
an orphan screaming about her
perfect parents, the moon and
the stars,
and how aligned they were
In you slow, succumbing demise.

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