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 Death Can Be Unkind When It Steals Treasure
crimson on the carpet
dripped and drying
vestiges of violence
the curve of an upturned hand
all around flying
fluttering floating wisps of paper
they dance around
a disheveled wearied head
tongue mouth open
lolling instead
of speaking
a hurricane of debris
a dustbin pan of mess
discordance reeking
throbbing then receding
to this spotlight of flesh
the electric shock brain sign read:
find
then shove
this thought
out of your head
death
can be kind
when it relieves
pressure
death
can be unkind
when it steals
treasure.


Meloo/Melissa
Tilt-a-World
joined snippets from 1982 to present; meaning, some lines from an old poem I wrote at age 20.
Sept 28th 2010 Copyright



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