©2021 Michael Raven

even yesteryear
tastes rancid
gagging on memories
and vomited dusty days
curdled on attic walls
inside my head
grasping sartre's nausea
after years misunderstood
with a season in hell
raking, clawing
flames into the back
of my head

a whole host of
waiting for
my surrender
with mockery in
their song

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