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Bird against the night, White fingertip against A negative held up to light. Whisper, soft by definition, Work your maledictions So I have something to react to. The way you talk it would seem Those words have been Asleep for years. I’d Hardly want you to Strain- sprain anything. Spring it on me, Show the Bruce Lee Of your larynx. Strike Me or smite me, bury Your fist and pronounce That solar syllable before- Before the storm cedes. We’ve all been waiting for The blue flick, the Clear blur, the handle Toward your hand. Spit It into the light. I don’t Really care, I just need it out. Cut around it anymore And you might inadvertently Break the clouds. It’s a cheap Trick but it’s all I ever had Over you. Night bloodies the beach. A moral goes unheard  like An ignored spectator.
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Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
Pulp Friction
Bird against the night, White fingertip against A negative held up to light. Whisper, soft by definition, Work your maledictions So I have something to react to. The way you talk it would seem Those words have been Asleep for years. I’d Hardly want you to Strain- sprain anything. Spring it on me, Show the Bruce Lee Of your larynx. Strike Me or smite me, bury Your fist and pronounce That solar syllable before- Before the storm cedes. We’ve all been waiting for The blue flick, the Clear blur, the handle Toward your hand. Spit It into the light. I don’t Really care, I just need it out. Cut around it anymore And you might inadvertently Break the clouds. It’s a cheap Trick but it’s all I ever had Over you. Night bloodies the beach. A moral goes unheard  like An ignored spectator.
© Cody Edwards 2010
Written by
American
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
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