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Monday, 28 February 2011


It's getting late, but I remain.
Confusion smothers the harbour of repugnance.
I must first deceive you, before I can be honest.
It is not that I am testing you, for your worth,
but my fear of falling deep into tainted affections.
An infected affection, no-one can triumph.
This game is for mugs, and I'm a muggy, muddy mess.

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