Terminally your aborted ghost

Minimalistic objectivity

Terminally your aborted ghost
A diabetic dance of grave digging daggers.
Cadavers of list consulting lion keepers, drugged awake.
Inspect pickled proximal, panic-traced timetables taught under top-heavy tiptoes.
Bulging bilge of body types transferred onto tight knit tendrils of tendons.
Those naked unfed sides hinge bare in over-exposed daughter-white skin.
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