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the gnawing sorrow this is me this gnawing sorrow hunched under hair loosely bound in skin splitting from the moans of sighing bones osteoporosing faintly but with dignity and I sit on a pile of coffee-stained paperbacks and birdword notebooks containing flapping poems caged in softbound covers and beneath those slack breasts thread upon thread of wilfulness spun to tie my heart together while lungs garrotted by despair have lost three-quarters of breath ©Gillian Prew |