The Balto clock stands tall and proud,
It's back casts shadows along the feral memories
But it will never ever fall,
Balto Clock, seduces the Banshee,
But even her albino memories are sentenced to stone
And it doesn't shift blurring donated orbits
To her pale flesh, as her foul naked skin rots on in dead marshmallows left at the campsite of an assault scene,
And they drone over uselessly,
expelling rigid fangs into the neck of the past,
To suckle the insanity,
as demonified Balto children do,
And the memories are flooding – they will drown you-
-But never kill you-
White mercy flags do not exist in this dimension.
As I think of hearts pounding, in cardiac insanity
It can't make me, I'm swearing
I won't be as Millicent.
“How long for the memories to ruin you?” is cackled like venom.
“Minds already double barrelled and shot. Do you hear the strict perversion entangled in nether pulse?”
I won't listen, but the voice hears when I am vulnerable and tangles in it's acid nest to taunt me on sensitive subjects.
There are no accusations, just hating based on knowing, says the arachnid balto child.
The the memories flood, until suicide as prophesied is forced.
Murder, I shift my teeth, As I didn't want to die finally
Except I did, with memories of Millicent and Eric
with those Cyanide doused Dane's flooding my head.
You'll be free, whispers Balto
And the blow dryer clatters onto the ceramic tub floor, water splashing.
Burning.
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