Desires: Nerves
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Ex Animo Defuncto Te Adloquitor Hic

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Silver, sharp and piercing 
Twisting slowly round,
In my stomach's pit,
I hear that fluttering sound.
Butterflies with metal wings;
An orchestra of violins
Playing my heart-strings.
Nails on a chalkboard
The touch of cotton-wool,
With all of the above
Is my stomach full.
Metal barbs are in my chest,
Making breathing hard.
A desert in my throat,
My tongue a piece of card.
Silver, sharp and piercing,
Twisting slowly round.
In my stomach's pit,
I feel them fluttering round.

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