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Arsenist
I light my strange world on fire.
Throw a match into the dark,
and the shadows start moving.
The day is a pretty river,
flowing so fast the reflection
of a moment as I see it,
seems to slip away before I can touch it.
Always running, fading.
But the night shows me life,
as clear as my reflection
in a glass. It lets me flow
with my imperfections,
until the rhythm becomes exotic.
They have a place here in the living.
And the scent of sex sings
in my head, whispers
in my ear, my hair,
the soft sheen on my skin.
Flowing from my touch,
the way my shirt slides off
the shoulder, just so much.
Inviting, breathing, speaking.
I'm an artist, and I've found
my perfect instrument, my canvas,
and keep the match ready
when the night comes to meet me.
Ready to move,
ready to dance with the devil,
ready to play with fire.
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