31.8.09

Decomposed Slavery.


Pointed teeth and finger nails
Saturated street brings out the snails
A sticky sweat that glues bodies together
And the unfamiliar smell of hate.

Sweet spoken whispers of false sugar
Destruction tends to look for the withered
Tangled hair and a dripping painted face
This is the night for your romantic goodbye to every wish.

Street lights cast the filthy light of yellowed skin
Pores dripping with addictions saunter on cemented sin
This is punishment
This is for you.

As the fabric covers your sky
You may not speak, and your sounds may not fly
Creating the secret
Back bones rubbed raw on gravel.

Awoken with a wise sight
Wander in silent circles without a whisper goodbye
This beautiful unprepared end of the penetrated childhood
Is now just a humourous grin.

As the degraded become disturbed
As the skewed pour it on the birds
Odium drips and diffuses into mist
And all that is seen is blind.

You will spit your poison
Because they don't know, and you can't destroy them
This is the species of a toxic tongue
And acid spitting stomaches.

Walk along with your wicked
Becoming a vesseled shell, flaccid and crawling in kitchens
The cockroach
The infamous deadly kill.

The murdered children come to slit throats of possible offenders
Stretched pupils and fearful eyes that don't belong here
Welcome to your destiny
You have become what you have witnessed.

And as purity carefully blows it's breath upon the shoulders
Goosebumps quiver, anxiety boils, the young live in the older
Swimming through the thick escape
Layers of your rotten corpse maintain your death.

As the sun wakes up for the hello
Vision seeps through the night that we all know
Jazz music plays in the background
And the memories of tape players in the old 90's Corolla
Caress the thoughts
To baking excitement in the timed oven
With cold tiles under five year old feet
That walk to the park
And swing on the roped tree
With a haircut from your mother.

The scissors of realization cut off the eyelids
As the blame settles onto your shaking flesh
The finger of your vulnerable freedom points to the face
Of who kissed your soul with trauma.

Looking down.
You stare at the shining round tip as it looks back with cold spurn.
The walking, blinking, suicide breathes deep.

You did this.


Sing a delicate song as your gritty hands hold dark red wine.
Photobucket

Someone asked me a question today.
And I have no idea why I told them the truth.










Adam just sat there.
He asked how it's so easy for me not to care.
If a guy has ever hurt me.
How I can be completely unemotional.
Leave people.

He wants someone to give him worth.

Odd.

That he'd say that outloud.

I don't know how.
I told him that when the taint swims into a young body,
It can never breathe a pure breath.

He asked what happened.
Refused.
He questioned molestation.
Responded, refuse to say yes or no.

He said he was.
I said I was.

He lives in an addiction different from mine,
But I understand his.

I've never kissed him like I've kissed a person.

But I can't go anywhere with this.

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