throw myself at walls to crawl out of myself
shut down like ‘blackout panic’
shock burns across your palms,
from charged wire fences begging to be climbed
the ghosts of who anyone used to be,
reside in a glass house where nothing’s left to break
ride the sex gutter out
the deep end of a shallow urge
with a head full of accidents
leaving a splintered, cracked iris
songs for burning dust that suffers on steel
blank issued bliss and spirals
veteran erogenous zones
my spatial recognition is diluted
dystopian lingo and poseur strut
you’re neon in daylight, a good idea best unseen
vomit shards down my throat
glowing brighter than you are
rumors can’t hear our prayers
somewhere abrupt of away
© 2007 chrome arctic
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/16799/104512 on Thursday September 04th, 2008 11:20 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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