The right mouth dances with
splintered skin. The wrong face leads
and night chilled faith
fractures the vision.
cold dance bathes in a bright droning
It rings silence upon dull thumbs
does it toy?
close up
filled with plastic heat
closed up
never reaching the end of it's passions.
A soft engine scratches the curtain
beguiling veins of paradise
felt tipped exploration on vacant skin
with biting page and dampened bones
commiserate failure spills from his sorrow
present hips and folded lies hesitate
crackling words on
forgiving skin
a passive halo follows me
while the sun breathes on the walking green, and dines upon a grass lunch.
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