S.O.C 2#A Poem by George StalHigher still thru the ceilingDon't give me unprepared as you knew then and never gave up the information , extracting it slow w-/ boiling oil & barbs removing my pound of flesh hurting pretty badly. Talking to myself once again as the world falls to pieces drifting on cliche & clouds of platinum droplets sparking a magnetic storm above automated cities walking about the countrys on tin legs reinforced with titanium carrying the tribal populations within their limits feasting on smaller towns & early constructs & maybe the odd static suicide attempt assuming they communicate by some other means asking if they can be killed at a reasonable price as I recycle ideas picked up along the wayside , thrown to the literary lions aged yellow page manes . fur in newsprint critique running as far as the eye can see & w-/ meaningless poetry on the paws stepped on by each bound leaping on their prey to strip flesh from bone long rips meat & fat going off the radar, Nerve endings give up in shock as the tendons twist into a chinese fingertrap cutting off all circulation. My ECG came back normal I swear with electrodes on my chest & ankles. Small talking my way to the top © 2011 George StalAuthor's Note
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2 Reviews Added on October 22, 2011 Last Updated on October 22, 2011 Author
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