High *language

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by Ze'ev-Hayalim, Feb 1, 2007.

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  1. candles burning pools of wax
    my mind weary, growing lax
    arms torn and scratched
    in some vile attempt to catch
    the agonizing burning in my veins
    like a derailed berserk train
    down on my knees breathing
    wanting to escape this seething
    chasm of hypocrisy and lies
    food for the maggots, dinner for the flies
    disoriented and crawling
    tripping and falling
    making little sense
    loaded and dense
    sober but drunk
    screwed, hammered, totally fucked!!!
     
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