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A grey day, fresh Running again past the terraced housing Small unkempt gardens leading to modest brick homes The smell made me turn Without a doubt, death A cloying smell Dusty without dust Penetrating without form Dark and heavy as a cloud The smell made me turn It looked dead Scraggy Tongue out Eyes black if eyes...

I seem to have gone full hog on this Twitter thing after spending so long thinking "why would I want to tweet my every moment" I now realise I perhaps was not being creative enough about it. Follow my tweets at www.Twitter.com/coelhoaa ...