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Lava

August 20, 2016

M0014782 Nikola Tesla, with his equipment

I heard you sing along.
To this or that song.
All pretty pink gums.
Child-like.
And innocent.
Like you were so very young.
Hair down your back.
And just your panties on.
Some simple.
Lyric that made you smile.
While you never understood.
That which sung to me.
Jews harping on.
Of hatred and love.
Highways and blondes.
These were like riddles.
Beautiful horrors.
From poisoned pen.
Beyond good and evil.
Beyond bleached castles.
Far beyond your ken.
No wonder you shook.
When words were all it took.
To bring the waterworks on.
To slip the finger in the ring.
And as the ink dried.
The sour smell.
So like thin wine.
Made you cock your head.
At the spinning coin.
Between hatred and love.
Is distance divided by time.

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From → Poetry

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