Anyone Else’s Ghost Story

No further surprise from his loving wife, /those venereal quack moves /under an off white moon, so far away ,/spreading milk in a loose sky, he thought of it as a still life, quite lifelike,/ this came on, overpowered him, /strange as the sight of storms over deserts, it stirs his blood like anyone else. As he hoped to revive,/ from the sludge, a native of the image/that flashed back in his mirror/ he hoped the living room appeared bigger

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