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I am twisted around the Clown Prince kiss,
Twisted around his dream to kill, -
How would you like to
Become the future? -
As I lay,
Hair blown aside, -
I feel inside out and extravagant
There is a sandstorm in my head -
He may be just some
nerdy guy -
Their words were loud and abrasive.
I thought of the obvious origin of the argument: which was better: the red power ranger or the pink? -
It was as if you hung my thin skin as a tapestry,
So all of my ingenuous blood would trickle down the wall, -
That feeling before the storm,
When the air has this electricity, -
Dear Dorian,
You can’t even begin to understand how very sad I am today. -
I smell the wind and my body electrifies
Surrounded by blues and greens and pinks -
While I sat in my chair, perfectly lost
among internal waves without a map or sail, -
Our warm bodies wear only the dark --
Oh, it suits us well -
I understand, you must leave me here,
Stranded alone in hotel room forty-five, -
My delightful muse; life’s incentive --
Your beauty flowing through ink, filling pages. -
There are those days when I wake up
And don’t remember who I am. -
There are days when I sit and I question,
What is the purpose of today? -
Just another name crossed off the list;
I sit alone as the cherub beckons. -
Please, baby.
Can you hear me? -
Take
me, please
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