From the gizard.

The delusion of my abstraction

Hollow sound

Knock on wood

I am lost and found

I have a headache

In the left side of my head

A dull ache

And I am bereft of all I have claimed to have said

Murder

Murder me

I cannot weep

Like I think

I wilt and brown

And the sun shines down

Burying me in the light

Suffocating

All I knew

Was wrong.

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