Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Recurring Themes In an Amplitude of Cadavers

Bumping into attractive opposite sexes multiple times in one day. Made for awkward meetings which turned into an exchange in smirks, to a, "...Hey..."

No. Nothing. Nothing.

Hands on the back. Scratching, biting, sweating. You want more? I think you do. But then again you always portrayed yourself as the shy and innocent person. Why was that?

I've said too much. It stops for a fragment of time undisclosed to those eager, begging, starving for more rations. I make it to obvious to others.

Trapped just what we took.
Justification grained perfection.
Oiled from hands down.
Cracking the bells, plastic ruckus.
Altered fathomed pupils licking themselves.
Hastened tempo unable to disinfect.
Spreading the gospels of vermin.
One. Two. Three. Free to a bigger cell.
Detached quite the contrary indeed.
Light ripping the insides of umbrellas.
All that is left is fortitude. Yellow grapes.

Attempted suicide is illegal.

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