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The surreal walk to the unknown
Chemicals burn in our bloodstream
To wear it off
Walk till the break of dawn

We ignite our thrills
Engines roar
To conquer our midnight thrists
You will hear it
When it nears

Vanish into the night
Listen to the whispers
That it wants you to hear
Shift down for the shear rush
Through the abandoned leads

Trip down the memory lane
It wasn't our hunger in the first place
Just scripting of a memory to be made
The Needed cherish when everything fade
 Jun 2017 Simone Zona
Ryan Holden
Tasting your skin
Whilst you scratch my thirst,
A flavour into the uncharted,
Flashing lights on our taste buds
As we fall into one another's worlds,
Our legs intertwine like vines,
Our breaths match simultaneously,
You raise your back like you're
Stretching your senses into my soul,
I separate you into two dimensions
And you still come back
For another whole universe
To explore.
 Mar 2017 Simone Zona
She whispered his name each
Night like a prayer waiting to be
Heard by a god she thought was
There. The way the syllables
Swirled round her tongue like an
Ancient tale she didn't know but
Felt when she heard her heart
Beat. The feel of the letters on her
Lips was like a childhood lullaby
She had heard a thousand times
But forgot the words to.
She longed for the person she had
Once known like her first name.

But what she didn't know was that
There are some things that must
Just remain forgotten.
 Oct 2016 Simone Zona
I asked your roots to grow into my flesh,
to use my veins as maps.
You let them dig into my skin,
but your hatred drew them back.
So still I stand between the their bodies, and I look east for winter's end,
I urge the dirt to drink my blood, and let the Tall Trees grow again.

Young, wicked boys, we danced through dust,
Drunk on death and mad with song.
My fading laughter showed the truth;
One pair of footsteps all along.
So still I sit with dying giants,
Their leaves will fall by end of June.
My hero's eyes burned holes in me,
I dug holes here for me and you.

The tall trees died when we were ten,
They seemed to shrink as we grew up.
We walked the forest one last time,
Just before the clear cut.
The aching skin of hers vibrated and filled the room with a coldness unbearable

It was an awful sight to anyone who wasn’t understanding

Anyone who wasn’t an artist wouldn’t see the beauty behind the suffering

In her blue eyes

They kept the waves of oceans left to crash back into her mind

Flooding her thoughts like a tsunami


And so breakable.

She may of been weak overall,

But I saw the beauty in it all.

She was a perfect painting to me

Sculpted in lust and passion

*My perfect porcelain.
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