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Tal Xel’atoth

Deep within that wretched,

rapturous, metastatic

Uber-city of sprawling slums


with bitter ghosts

Where the grief peddlers,

dream-gropers, and


press in, hawking

verboten shadowcraft

In its desiccated

hanging gardens

where the wind whispers

and wheezes, warbling

songs of your death

That’s where you’ll find

your lost girl


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