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~ Repost ~
synthetic heaven taking hold
changing all that's lucid, cold
down the gut or down the drain
coursing throbs to burst a vein
(bent to quell a wretched pain)
neural tap dance, bloody bold ...
dangled digits - dancing doll
damp, the skin, a fetid crawl
lines of white to tingle, thus
in the nostrils, dirtied dust
(fevers do what fevers must)
cordially, then climb the wall ...
skin as pale as pallid moon
gals drape alabaster swoon
chemicals, tho wildly worse
sipping bubbly from a purse
(coy to craft a college verse)
sinless, she'll be sullied soon ...
manic madness found a shell
every potion kings could sell
spending senses on each one
pounding pulses, just for fun
(hungers hotter than the sun)
banished aptly straight to Hell ...
lived, have I, a passion's dream
dancing short of Hades' seam
wisdom, more or less my own
sucking marrow from the bone
(shy the debts I've yet to own)
due whatever fortune deems ...
pain more horrid than it seems
(death as dark as devil dreams).
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2020
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