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Bathed in silver, cracked in gold
love got into one of your stories again.
               ❝ i swear i didn't mean to be temporary ❞

Sangria flames and broken glass;
dry ashes mixed with lavender petals,
a phoenix beckoning the silk threads of night
                ❝ desolation took a bite from the moon ❞

You will become brittle dust to feed old books on shelves,
and I don't regret that I both poured
and drank
a cup of lust and sorrow, just for you
              ❝ do you still want to kiss the ink off my lips ❞

Tip the dish to catch the koi,
as you reincarnate once again;
mind those knives in the sink,
and please remember, that fire is impatient
               ❝as you succumb to me in all thousand lives. ❞
my phoenix
let it be known that
your dreams still stain my pillow

© Copywrite Skaidrum
nothing can be sacred
as Holy War yet wages
t'would drive me mad
if i didn't love it so much,
but then,
can't that be reckoned to be
manic denial of my own masochism?
Life is punctuation
ephimerally punctuated
by something to punctuate!
Imperfection of perfection
is rivaled by only
perfection of imperfection.
Life
is practice
of the theory of Philosophy,
whereas Philosophy
is theory
of the practice of Life
were i to stop, i may just die,
but then again,
were i to die, i may just stop!
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