Untitled I
My blood never aches unless she is nearby Ameoba foamed at the mouth while repenting
sedative games Larvae linguistics of dead tongues fold the river by the lips I got a
prayer that’ll siphon off our blood As water quenches a blazing fire God damns my shadow
bound by the sender The burns a taunting to dissolve in you I gotta rid this world of one
who is starving A monument hidden from ravens in the sand
Copyright © Paul Black | Year Posted 2009
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