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Jul 2014
pull the plug on me before
i switch off the breaker.
perturbed you glance as
condolences roll off my lips
and fine sherry slips past them.
nothing was meant to be rosy and
in the black of our feelings,
the devil moves in me
as you are meant to.
the circuit in my halo
is calling *******
and bast is laughing,
coughing ugly colours from her lungs.
puce must be our hamartia
and when it dribbles down my face
i make leaf piles out of
the skin cells and ugly rivers,
and you take breathing for granted.

but you don't give up that easily,
and when i'm filling my bathtub with wine
you're there to lap it up.
Written by
brea  Somewhere
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