Spoiled Milk and Stale Cinnamon
spoiled milk and stale cinnamon is what i feel like eating
your departure from my life has given my quite a beating
i indulge carelessly as a tribute to happier times
loneliness is creepy like an unfamiliar dirge of rusty wind chimes
my stomach complains, but my mind blanks out feelings and sensations
my head spins and goes to unnamed places with no billing or locations
i decide to mix the nasty portions without concern for sense or reason
i close my eyes ever so tightly to force my main source for my dreams in
as my body rejects the disgusting concoction, it reminds me of the sudden erasure of beauty
i will repeat the ritual again tomorrow like an odd sort of necessary duty
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