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 Jan 2013 Kaycee33
Tim Knight
This is a club scene poem, so
imagine classics from the nineties
and fearless girls drinking from beer tins-
this is that night you want to omit
and not remember,
this is every night you’ve had to dance
and not wanted to.*

He dropped his drink
for the red-bra-girl;
she thought it the rain,
but instead it were a wasted
drink down the cigarette drain.

Girls in Jack Daniels
who don’t like whiskey
nor dances,
nor the sting of alcohol
upon their tongue.
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Can you tame your Ego?
Can you best your Shadow?
Can you be so humble as to understand that your perspective is only so valuable to yourself?
Can you acknowledge that your mental inertia doesn't translate into how right you are?

You may be a fanatic, but you serve only to discredit what shards of truth you may regurgitate.

He who speaks loudest is not necessarily most correct,
nor is he who speaks last.

Your Ego is the Slavedriver.
Your Shadow is the law which allows Slavery.
 Jan 2013 Kaycee33
Olga Valerevna
is a trap
that i don't want to die in
a bag of bones that i have
to lie in
 Jan 2013 Kaycee33
Audrey
I woke in the arms of the devil
where I'd found some sort
of sick comfort in his presence.

The warmth of a fire
that had left scars
on my hands,
but I'd found some sort
of sick pleasure in the pain.

The question on your mind
is not so easily answered
for the question itself
is incorrect.

It's not how does one fall
in love with evil,
for evil wears a sharp disguise.

It's how does one stay
in love with evil
once the mask slips?
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