Max Renn
Crumbling world falls through my hands
In my mouth taste bitter sands.
Grass is burning, pulse is slow.
Drip by drip my backwards growth...crawl.
Fade to hate.
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In my mouth taste bitter sands.
Grass is burning, pulse is slow.
Drip by drip my backwards growth...crawl.
Fade to hate.
...
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- 4/30/2009
