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Brass Knuckles Mike
Poems
Jan 2014
Cold
Sometimes I spit
To let the saliva
Freeze
On my lips
Its stupid cold
A cold of the kind
That effects the synapses
Of the mind
So cold the the very molecules
Experience a slowing of time
That I
Cannot taste
Cold so that the frozen ground
Refuses to accept
The burial shroud
A kind of cold
That dinosaurs
Dreamt of in nightmares
Planetary bodies
Far more distant from ours
Are warmer
And still the saliva
Drips
Moist on my lips
Wet
And dripping
A defiant *******
Shouting **** physics
**** the evidence
Nothing can be as real and limiting as this
Biology at war with
The law of thermodynamics
A molecular battle to exist
And still the cold persists
Written by
Brass Knuckles Mike
37/M
(37/M)
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