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Character


I cried for a ghost once

He told me his story while he sat at my bedside

Transparent as my own eyes and swallowed by grief

It followed him in the door like a personal storm

He held the void in his heart and loss in his eyes

The ones that followed the tears down my face

Death in the air, holes in his memory, voices in my head

Tear stains on a pillow for the invisible dead

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Cathardiac

I'm the midnight 7/11 slurpee to accompany your feelings of existential dread.

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