Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Hugger Mugger

Drossy words,
Dressed up to be beautiful,
Smelling of hell.
My fingers dance
An insidious jig with
The sharp end of a razor blade.
Melancholy for the stab,
I let them restart the count.
Here to be a martyr of the unknown,
The axiom concluding in confusion,
So I know nothing.
A truth I've felt all along.
Desire juxtaposing righteousness,
No one wins this round.
Preferring the feel of an
Enigmatical slice, I fall asleep
Out of spite and prey upon
Black dreams that exist
Only to suffocate the dreamers,
The silly hearts.
Still, the words smell of sh((i))t.
I can still see the lies as
They fall from my own mouth.

5-12-11


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Hugger Mugger

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