Gasp Fair Harlot!
She's grown fond
of the void lulling around her exoskeleton
She's brought horror to
diligent obtuse slaves
The quiver in her giggle
heeds her cerebellum celebration for the rats that claw at the flesh walls
Jokes on the vermin, jokes on everyone
germ spreader dictates a varied vacation from the norm
the wicked only wither at the hint of a storm
It's in their genes
in between
and all part of "the scene"
a hellish landscape comprised of wooden dolls cradled by gelatin snakes
It's about to forsake the world
She's about to regurgitate the stars over absent bowel syndrome
She's loved and out
sprained by clout
itched severed love cloth
begging for a spout
Brave ones be near her
Sing the strings of cellos wrapped at her ankles
Bring the sins of her meta-skeleton
Drag her through the snow
freeze everything she knows
Copyright © Martin Graham | Year Posted 2010
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