Short Gasp
By DikeMent
Kiss the pavement, reach for the sky. Troubled by earthquakes, locked up and fried. I felt the tremors shake, And in that instance I knew: everything is a lie. You trouble me in a friendly way, And the package was postmarked "dead". Beauty has burnt itself to the ground, I'm praying for an encore. Degenerate filth bought by the pound, You seem too desperate, you whore. Pretend, pretend all you want. It will never work, It will never come back again. This machine's dead, It's structure's deflated and ironed out. And calmness is not quite the cure, I'll keep looking. The package was postmarked "dead". BUT I WILL KEEP LOOKING. Written April 16th, 2002 © on Apr 16 2002 03:25 PM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"Kiss the pavement, reach for the sky...."