July 30, 2004

Grasping the gun gasping.
These are paper foil stars.
razor sharp and beyond perfection.

This is how to hold a gun.

Buy yourself a new.
throw that knife, perfect aim
because it was never seen.

Everyone considers you a climber.
they can’t love you anymore.
Drowning in the poisoned well, she ripped through the ripened lies and threw herself through the shredded window. the silent scream echoed through the deafening defying feats of an acrobatic sound. Songs to a sickness.

No flowers for your measured pit.


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