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He lies on his grey rug Beats beating down the drumming dim drum of his heart’s racing thump And visions of sugarplums become glowing green orbs On his floor where he flew to light-years above In a space where they fight with sabers and swords That ignite only words with such terrifying blows And he whines along to the morgueish melody below He screams out the lyrics to prove he knows so The tap of her foot to the beat of the bass Makes love to the hairs stemming stars off his arm But she doesn’t love him so he crawls to his bed Left her to love the crispy carpet instead
0
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
at night, in beat-down Sarasota
He lies on his grey rug Beats beating down the drumming dim drum of his heart’s racing thump And visions of sugarplums become glowing green orbs On his floor where he flew to light-years above In a space where they fight with sabers and swords That ignite only words with such terrifying blows And he whines along to the morgueish melody below He screams out the lyrics to prove he knows so The tap of her foot to the beat of the bass Makes love to the hairs stemming stars off his arm But she doesn’t love him so he crawls to his bed Left her to love the crispy carpet instead
cara-grace
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Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
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