Sex And Hell
I stand flimsy with my hell Sweet carmine assassins Infertile mother, she asks who I'll kill tonight I do not stutter, I merely unite sweet angels Hung up by frigid dreams Erect kings, plenty within their thrones Offer bread and wine for sweet a taste Of underworld ballets, and carriage daughters I feed them jazz, I let them feel That dour warmth, that moody moisture Familiar to where I come And they will know my thighs as my fist Anxious for lips, bare and winking I stand potent with my hell Aged and pure with annoyance Piteous lost mother, she asks who I'll save tonight I do not feign, I merely strip prickling gods Leaving the rats to dine and pleasure Familiar to where I sound... Some call me "mother" Others call me "dead"dont ask....lol Written January 20th, 2002 © on Jan 19 2002 03:18 PM PST 18 • 0 • 16
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"I stand flimsy with my hell..."