bloody great box of bones you stalk my life
walking on four legs in the mourning
gears clacking cough racking
with a twisted smile
i hide behind children throwing stones
and lick the platter in atonement
scheming my nemesis and fears whirring
a machine machine machine
so much for this brave new world i would pray to god but god has packed up his bags and gone vacationing in purgatory
Russell J Turner - July 2010
Relocated
9 years ago
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