The Rats (here they come)

muags

The rats of potent truth
come at night
to eat my bones
and
learn my secrets
They know
me too well now
and
my flavour is beginning
to sour
They realize
their pursuit has been
a waste of time

There is no new information
in my organs

My heart tastes like
Sangria and buttered toast,
the arteries are clogged
with
plastic love

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