Slag Worn Centipedes
Ragged thoughts marching like stoned centipedes.
To the slag heap of the lost.
Intertwined with eternity's brine.
Waiting to reunite with meaning.
A lightning strike- mind o fire.
Insomnia rapes the dream.
Splay the centipedes across the page.
Like autumn leaves o'er vampire graves
or twitching feet in a gyrus maze.
The destiny of brilliant beams
is the outback of the furthest ... reach...
Sadistic magicians pulling diamonds
back into centipedes.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2012
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