Mucus filled moments, etched in the plasma of blood stolen from your sack of gold, a still beating heart, not beating at all, I surgically removed the cause of the pain, mirror image pictures, crayon lines taken up my nose, a doorway, a window, a sweet sympathy underneath my soul.
Fluid Filled Sacks – Unhinged Poem
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Twisted Roads - Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks 
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