Why when I dream to be a lion,
do I wake, in the mirror a whore?
shuddering at the thought of another subtle suggestion.
Through flags of swirling blood I am frozen,
unable to be a friend to my abscess ridden shadow.
searching for default divinity
in a prison of emotional chastity,
lusting after nothingness,
and nothingness is what I find...
Copyright 2005 Rustedfaith
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