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Nails in the Jaw—secreted from the lip—bitten from the mind. They eat from the pot—brewing their purged longings— sweltering from the heat—water trickling down their finger tips, into a puddle around them. The pool forms--sinking underneath. -Emily Irvine

تُعرض النبذة بالإنجليزية لعدم توفر ترجمة بعد.