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hugger-muggery
I have a thought that is a rock tumbling in my head.
An incessant knock, a stumbling block, a curiosity wrapped in dread.
It’s a scattered flock, a sinking dock, a stranger’s hair in my bed.
It’s a stutterer’s talk, a paralytic walk, a straitjacket made of lead.
It’s a kiss with a plot, a sanguine slipknot, a hopeful prayer for the already dead.
I had a thought that I’ve now forgot, and my talent remains unfed.
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