| Vile rub touch breath drag lust... sweet bitter dark dusk... black black cream.. claw scratch pant scream.. love in its final stage. |
| CHill ( the Unanswered) chill is warmth without words when you can be silent and touch lips and soft fingertips and kiss stabbing ice and be content with inner sunlight. chill is gloom under the strobe lights slapping bodies on a sheet of glass wallowing in sin and desperate sweat and being content with inner freedom. And the indefinite eternity of not knowing. chill is the seperation of souls pushing thoughts together in a person's head. .. making room for the pain. chill is whatever is silent whatever is angelic whatever is pure and whatever will remain unanswered. |
| When we are gone.. when we go to the outside with our guns.. when we go to the outside with our strength.. prepared to fire but not ready to die our hearts beating in our throats.. It's ok for me to sing to myself to get my mind off of the dirt, and the sand, and my home... but when I am gone who will know? as I lay down in the mud, breathing slightly for the sake of secrecy, I wait for them to see me, and take me, and kill me... just so long as they tell someone, I used all of the round in my hand, I sweat all of the blood i had to sweat, and I swore to God in my prayer.. but when I am gone no one will know that i cried one last time for the bodies, and the truth. |
| The Dark I do not understand the dark the jagged edge it gives me the greedy glow the night pushes through our small windows. Yet I hunger for the darkness for angry flesh like maroon blood dripping, dripping upon sheets, upon sheets of music, of pain. Sweet, dark, cold, gothic boy, his black fingertips scraping my chest his ebony lips licking mine, drink the darkness, DRINK THIS NECTAR. |
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