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Guilty Confession
Skin stretched, swollen, and sated from self-indulgence.
The balloon needs to be popped,
so pressure can escape and churning can stop.
The segmented pole slips through the darkened tunnel.
But not too far, just enough.
The chunky sea rushed through the tunnel but a fire followed behind.
The balloon sank, deflated.
All that remained was a retched smell, relief, and permanent guilt.
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