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Peace of mind can't be bought

This Warring, the Town itself Panting Red Thoughts enter drunk, amid the Sinking fog “Birds, they Raise their young For Dead.” A Calm slow look as I Measure Myself about him, Eyes across Shadow A Tourniquet, a Scalpel, Delicate Sloping stomach, thinly curved and slightly outward Like a 6-ounce Bottle Of Opium Skin. The Color of the room is Hushed, Solitary ghosts creaking through the Lonely blood of my Heart. A mind Lit by dampened Thunder \\\\ and Searing dirty lightning Flash. Gazing, Drinking in his Champagne Eyes, Arms like Gallows, Fingers a Noose (One Touch, One Stroke, And You’ll Choke, You’ll Choke… you’ll choke) The Fever of my Voice however, does convey… certain advantages. I Can see the Sweat just beginning, a hundred little Diamonds written out in Lust. (or in my case, Luck) For I am Out Matched, Neck already straining against the Ropes. (Soon, My Voice will be as Vanished as the strength in my Arms) (And With a CRACK, I will be completely at Mercy) (Another Corpse for Heaven) (The Air in this Room, Overcharging me for Existence) (Swindled by such Light and the feel of carpet between Toes) Tic-Tacs, Tic-Tacs, Don’t forget the Tic-Tacs. (Fruit Punch) Impudent Smile, and I Ready, as an Army Consisting entirely of Volunteers. A clashing of Flesh, The Eyelid of atrocity, Hurricane Fingers gripping Muffled waterfall Hearts, Come with Me To the White Day that is Dying. Its Thighs spread and Eyes rolling through the Stars. -The End-

Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

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