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mike Aug 2015
they all died
and im crying.
mike Aug 2015
a darkness alone
in the human.

where it is wrapped
in perfect peace.

perfect pleasure.

drinking its sweat
and talking its philosophy
in full detail
to itself.

-laughing.

-grinning.

swirling its ten-inch finger
around the rim
of its glass-

-it is the ringing in your head..

drunk in the cave
with spiders
walking
through
the nightmare
carrying away
the vaguer pieces
on the well defined rine
of their oil-slick backs.

nesting
and nurturing
incestuous pods
to light the walls.

to ignite the glow
of its vacant grin.

the mist swims out
and dies.

scanning your body
and watching the show
of your soul decomposing

with its ****** eyes

half open and
tasting you.

rotting the tongue
which talks in
your broken,
burnt-down
asylum of a mind.
mike Aug 2015
baby velvet shoes
made from the
finest babies.
mike Aug 2015
the clouds come down
off their cloud

im able to bathe
in electricity
and how

it communicates

the senses appear
and disappear
in many
places

i am left
to understand
what it is to be
a basic condition
encapsulated
by color
ozone and
light
mike Aug 2015
she could perform
a botched surgery
with precision.

the freshly dead
would throw
their arms
around her
casual frame.

and the heart is in the mail.
mike Aug 2015
everyone

     broken
     pixels

down to
       zero


             zero waits,

                    still,
       motionless,

  unmade
mike Aug 2015
for the thousands of years

i have sat

waiting.


knowing:

all the trees
one day
will bend to your will.
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