The Word-Hell Avenue
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Just come our from fetid slush of words;
Rotten flesh fallen off ;
My skeleton walking on rattling the Word-hell Avenue
Dark light ejected from my two black holes in place of eyes
Clumsy Death-emissary bantering among themselves.
Once they tried to take off my skull for practice catching;
One of them fearfully told,
"Don't touch the skull. It's a poet's head.''
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