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■ The oak
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The suns heat
filled the map scared faces drenched their soaked forms and wore that frown of loss and death Deep upon those scared reflections. He journeys back here across those pages of time the dialog of historical debitum floods and fills the attic that crown of his dreams and thoughts where all is locked away till sleep Haunts the chambers of guilt and sorrow. These blasts that occur when the clock misses it mark and bangs the old world, that forgotten one back into the fringe of his eyes hoarding him upon the vapors of dreams A prisoner to his own nightmares. He see the rubber trees line the dense foray of the jungle The soaked uniforms of human waste that bore each mantled marine now statues of an older place A wished for forgotten one. Death looms heavy upon the air Discharged agents that cleanse the forest floor sweeps upon the vegetation and holds Its burning acidic taste to linger. It never disappears never leaves his sight nor mind images fast gather and discharge themselves in this eternal play, these days of decay that torment the soldiers form and might to the shattered sleep, the tears that flood out from worn sleepless eyes And form a Delta of their own. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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