Friday, 1 May 2009

Snap out of it

Your crude twisted licks of lies
Made some kind of contrived truth to my ears
Instinct, my friend, is right all along
Use of my being of myself of me was all you wanted.

The taste of three forms a bitter poise in my mouth
An acrid sense of everything this was trying to be not
His former cuts and slices possessed me
His former madness and sadness penetrated me

I don't know how to exorcise these black demons
You may have helped to create them
You may have helped to breed them

We will never know
You will never know

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