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About the author
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Born in New Jersey on May 21 of the year 1985, I have
lived in Puerto Rico since the age of thirteen. Influenced by punk rock and surrealist poets, I have been writing substance induced melancholy since the day I awoke from my first death.
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Oh my sweet sea how I miss the taste of your salt tears upon my tongue; I cherish the suffering of my heart every time you pass upon my site and walk through the ripped decayed curtain that is my soul.
Everyday I adore you more and each time I jump into hell and am spat back out as a vagrant pile of excrement; I try to reform myself but am at loss without you, without your humid breeze cooling down the eternal hate that runs unbearable through my punctured veins.
I do not ask to return to what once was, but I do ask this: Do you deny my existence? The words we spoke? For I do not, and I feel them now evermore than before; stronger than any moment in the past.
To watch your eyes avoid my being creates a body spasm which I have come to defeat; clandestine relieves! Time now that I pay and I will proceed. Hell will divulge me once again, and when he does, I wish that you’d take me; a smile, even when in sobriety. How I look upon the back and see the meddling of others and regret listening, but there was no control of myself; I brought upon my own downfall.
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