Wednesday

June 23, 2004

Summer · 1 entry

Enough of this insipid farce,
Its times like these that we should parse
the information we've been given.
Dealers, liars, filthy whores
entranced by those who've sold their Moores.
I stand alone, accountable, striken.

Its with death I've daily fought,
ambiguous, like a muscle taut.
Sexy in the dim flame's light,
room aglow with fire all its own,
illumiated appendages all thats shown
by the few seconds of a candles fight.
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