Δευτέρα, 9 Νοεμβρίου 2009

Death Petting.



Granted with gifts from iron butterflies
We stroll with pockets heaving us below
Bright presents wrapped in endings.

The veins within, dictating expiration
Counter-clockwise depletion of abundance
And the implosive knowledge of it all.

A storm of raining ticks and flashes
And not one instance have we lived
A zillion calculated.

Seen were the baby-blues, turning senile
Learning from birth that the idea of light
Means absence of the dark.

Onwards roam clay and breaths divine; the failure
This is not home, there is no home
For hearts are known to decompose.

Spread steel wings open, let me ride
This flesh-carved ship of anti-recollection
Shakingly floating downwards Lethe.

Spread steel wings open, spread them wide
My eyes of cinders, tightly barricade
And hum away the failing world.

Granted with gifts from iron butterflies
We tear the mind asunder, claim defeat
Drinking away,fucking away the truth.

And when the thoughts are beaten blunt
We'll look again upon the accident in mirrors
Yet sternly vow that life is not the flaw.

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