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WebMD won’t tell you how to heal a flapping voice,

a sweaty tongue, the toxicity of speech.

Swish your mouth with something intangible,

the crooked thoughts of a leafless tree.

It isn’t just the roads that are bad. 

The longtime twilight sky itches & burns. 

Sartre’s last words were, I failed.

H o w i e   G o o d

Nausea