Dimmed in the clutter of diseased productivity,
a fixed stare on barren canvas.
Discarded coffee cups and denied sketches,
these are the bones of this vivid graveyard.
Vivi-section of the mind,
raped of creativity,
penetrating memory,
buried in the clocks taunting tick.
an imperishable desire for thought,
damaged as the deceased muse,
massacure through the piantbrush.
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