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Wreck (Grim Death and Fetish)

November 27, 2013

onehundredandthirteen

Now.
Not a lick of it.
A kitten driven into winter shit.
I see you now.
As I saw you then.
A rooster strutting ‘round his hen.
When you were ever true to me.
Raped, and.
Of course.
Reserved.
Well.
Why shouldn’t you be?
Everything that you’d been through.
Forget time.
It was only you.
Who made the wires.
Coming out my wrist.
So sick.
So strange.
Seem normal.
Because they ensnared you, too.
Serpentine hold.
Barcode straight.
Audacious hope.
And impossible virtue.
I honestly thought.
In my dim.
And heavy lidded way.
That we’d never come apart.
Hail Mary!
Somewhere.
I still believe it.
In face of the facts.
You.
Are a mutt.
Aside a petty God.
His cruellest.
And most vicious act.

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From → Poetry

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