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|Dear Miss White.|
with a black iron lung, I’ll spit fire blood, is this what I have become? vampire chic, criticize me, and I’ll be the one to dwell on. with an awkward frame, i will remain, in this body I’ve torn – over and over, breaking a sweat, just by placing a hand on my neck. looking for comfort while trying to scream, screaming for something not so obscene, normal as sin that burns within, attempting to reach out and wrap around me. So come what may, watch what you say, being so naive has never made me weak til today, with a outstretched hand, I’m lusting within, and shedding by the second. Cold thighs and hips, quivering lips, I’m burning bridges – I’m sinking ships, with the words that I’ll speak, from a heart so antique, uniquely meek with hide and go seek powder technique, concealing the crimson blood burning up to my cheeks… only to watch you walk away.
Maybe I’m a lion…
|Posted On: 04/15/2009 2:20AM||View Lyviun's Profile | #|