The end illuminates
Shattered clouds,
screaming violens.
Thick blood,
Red sand sheets.
The relentless pounding sound of discontent
tears that burn,
The touch you wish you couldn't feel
Hardly real.
cracked open on a dining room table
I bear my parasites.
Termites eat at my bones,
as i masturbate to the pain.
In Progress.
Copyright 2003 AshtrayDirt
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