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Apr 2017
4/19/17

Pave whatever heartfelt wisdom you have with bedrock
Bury it under thick heavy ores
Tombstome lullaby your thoights for me.
Catacombs.
Temples.
Deep in the under earth hidden from my children
My children who come to me of their own will
I do not make them, they make me.
I am nothing without thise I inspire
Take your worship of their bodoes somewhere else
Take your lures
Your beartraps
Your candy
To the cattleprodding red man wher you will hide your ambitious eros for my family
If you are really "Wise"

Oh, they love you don't they?
You made them so giddy to be slaughtered
After years of molding and guiding
One tertdacyl swoop with your hungery eyes
My friend.
youbare not worthy of my rivalry
I do not need to throw gauntlets down for ****.
Let there be no forgiven intentions
Your mind would not be kept to yourself
If you laced it with trip wire
We know your secrets.

This is not a wizard battle.
we are not spiraling in a cataclysm on rooptop islands playing guitars shootig fireballs at one another

I am standing in a doorway.
You are naked on a bed
My arms are crossed and you are leaving.
This is not a goodbye
This is a warm bath, ibeprofen for your headache and a razor blade
Charity

Patrick starfish has a better home then you deserve.
Even at the bedrock of bikini bottom
You are mpt far enough down
Down
Down
Out of sight
Get your filthy hands off this grass
This sky
This air.
Stop breathing already
Nicholas Mercier Coulombe
Written by
Nicholas Mercier Coulombe  25/M/Maine
(25/M/Maine)   
388
 
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