Wednesday, September 23, 2009

snapped crackin

catharsis set in banshee demons cross plains of provisions harvested for organ donations and the sirens be screaming at the waves for chastising their chastity and maybe the junkies aren’t all that it’s cracked up to be and I fled the valley, finally. running up rolling paper maché mountains past the machine of the maker and hell was a steeper climb than angel dust and somewhere someone’s laughing at my chest breathing heavily, sign around my neck marked, I’m a runner, but faster at walking, and I’m trying to tighten the knots in my stomach that account for every broken piece that’s been spit at me. and I found my one way ticket to hell without unforgivable sins or even dying, just ended up with beats of turn table scratching at the floor boards to send me furthermore, I found it: hell without river styx sparking flames to ignite my body dangling downwards by my ankles – tie me, I’m ready for the suffocation of stability, never thought my own secretion would betray me. met the devil on an accordion binge at tight rope walking, came charging up to me balanced on cardboard feet, dressed like a beast, kissed cheeks like whores at the onyx gates, smelled filthy, she said with jagged tooth smiling dangerously, if I go to hell, you go to hell with me.

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