![]() You might want to take something for that.A Poem by Lee W. Deason
Are we sick? Are we brutal misfits, misshaped by dramatics?
You could cut the smoke and count the rings to tell. It's been going on for so long. Viscous mechanism. To be apart of the ultimate end. Dressed in black. Still your a little shy of the agenda, aren't you? Little boy. Am I next? Will the heart beat resist, to persist in time? A nervous stutter in my walk, as I descend in my eyes... Blank stares will get me through, they always do. I'm listening to the shouts and blocking them out. Forgiving immediately, as I always do, before I hurt. Myself. But please won't you just tell the truth. I never gave you the chance to lie. Instead you dance with your own mind. Because its safer inside. Safer inside, behind lying eyes. You always wake, to the sound of mistakes made by me. Teasing me with the lack there of in you. Asking nothing. My eyes are closed as I fight back the words I should say. Congratulations your the finest succubus. A perfect example. A simple sample of what's to be said. Lost translations, burned at will. No shadow feels like kissing a disease.... Like you... But please won't you just tell the truth. I never gave you the chance to lie. Instead you dance with your own mind. Because its safer inside. Safer inside, behind lying eyes. But please won't I just tell the truth. Just trust me. It's worth waiting to cut out you with my tongue. But I always bleed to brightly on the way home. I stagger and stammer as I clean up, my ugly face. A better image of me in the mirror. Beautiful blue... Bruises line up the matter of the fact. That I am better off of your operating table. © 2008 Lee W. DeasonFeatured Review
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