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Memories of my Brother XIX
My thoughts are cancerous
Mutations of lies
And ideas that refuse to stop dupilacting
Duplicating
And no amount of chemicals
Can ever poison away the words
That bloom like tumours
Somewhere between the front
And the back of my skull
Somewhere between yesterday
And tomorrow
Sometimes I go digging down to the roots
But to unearth the damage
is like weeding a meadow of dandelions
Down to soil
Because the first friend I confided in
On the matter of you
Told me that you were lucky
For getting skinny
And every nerve in my body has tightened
Around that exchange
So my cancerous thoughts
Have no choice but to continue to
Rupture me
And taint my mind with the terror
That we live in a world
That is infatuated with your skeleton
And that beatified your self-slavery
Like it planned to send it flowers
And offer a card of congratulations
To the barbs
That made you
Beautiful
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