Author: Zilch
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It burns again….the next day..!!
Inimical bitter taste of infectious sorrow, Borrowed with elegance of a charade, Is the recipe of the dinner, I cook Every envious nights of utter silence, eerily slow The taste of cider belies it, pungent odour defines it Dripping blood , patronizing thoughts quiver together In the melee of unattended fragments of desolate hope Make…