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Well, these pictures of him
Stick to my fingers like tar
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Can't you feel the the snap of her bones
Seeping between these Victorian cathedrals?
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It's the feathers dripping from your hands
Dovewhite and perfect photo negatives
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The butterflies are making a comeback,
crawling from the corners of my cerebral cortex
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My synapses firing on all cylinders,
veins are dancing with several million volts
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This isn't a poem;
Merely, a patchwork doll sewn from my past mistakes.
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Your voice is the most beautiful silver lining I've ever seen on a thunderstorm.
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(So let's close our eyes again)
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Abstractions can only go so far
In a world that's falling apart
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Kiss me until my lips are bleeding,
Fill me up with your emptiness.
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(There's no longer a line
Between my fantasy and my religion.)
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SometimesIfeelsoruntogether
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Rising, because you're falling,
Falling in absolutely nothing.
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He cuts into her like lightning into sand
In the autopsy ordered by the Queen of Hearts herself
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Ring around the rosie,
We're all out of breath
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This must be the eighth sin
Catholicism didn't teach us about.
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She's tripping on shrapnel and fractured candy canes...
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There she is, across the room
The girl dressed in black with the Morticia Addams smile
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As long as your phantasmal heart is satisfied.
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This red December sky is raining
Bullets and wine, bullets and wine
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She sits all alone at her computer
Spinning sticky-sweet threads of darkness
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Do not gaze long at the fountain, child
Or it will draw you in.
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And, no one can fix me anymore
Because I just
Won't let them.
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In this helter-skelter deck of cards
The Joker's had his fun
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We're birds of a feather, you and I
The hawk and the raven, neither seeking comfort
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