With a body wrapped in a crimson dress, she bears a violent temper. Shining daylight, raging bewitching, captivating cunning. You arrive with starry eyes and cheeks flushed like a ******.
In her curly hair, autumn curtains hang—roaming rays hot. She glows in the night like a pictorial wall with hieroglyphics concealing madness. You step elegantly, but you're a dangerously stealthy predator.
Grassy hills in floating flames burn beneath a voluminous haze. Her look describes fabulous waterfalls, endlessly flowing and shining in the coming dawn. You associate with robbers and kings, but they do not understand, and no one will save you.
Lovely eyes sprinkle enchanting rays, her lips intertwined like a rose petal. Her heart enticingly calls with her fruit to be drunk. You hide in the nightlife, dress up, and do your love magic.
Neck fashioned in autumnal garments, wearing scarlet ruby earrings. Her pink skin smells of perfume, inviting like a grape on a vine. You invite visitors with your charm to carelessness, forever forced.
Her lips are flowing bewitching rivers—intersecting strokes of crimson. They bring a dream to taste her deep soils and her artfully carved forms. You are determined to captivate without marrying— you stay lost in rebellion.
I spent another evening In one corner of My mind...
My conscience is Left bleeding, And I don't know what I'll find...
My future hangs in balance, I'm too nervous To sleep,
But still I keep my chalice, I fill it and I drink...
The courthouse is A palace, Of justice and of Peace,
But when I walk inside it I shake from head To feet...
I beg the gods I Don't believe To grant me just Some peace...
Please let me enter Into hell And walk out On two feet...
Oh, let me enter into hell And walk out On two feet...
I'm going to court tomorrow for my first felony charge (yay) let's hope my lawyer does this job and I walk out of there free. I always get the shakes when I have to go to court; thank gods Xanax exists...
who re-marrowed this hollow tree ? thought themselves of mythology ? processed death into the dying **** ? blunt blackened hope buttering up what god ? what mischief maker ? : Loki the crow with his promethean nose ?
covering his crooked actions the defiling of a life murderer a coward of failed coupling congress a night down the pub the gender polar pair collided sottish upon their union genitals bragging through urgent gaps in clothing but that urgency deflated it muttered away he felt baited and humiliated he committed to ******
crude amateur throttling a ***** sogged brick an indiscreet botch up and a stolen wheelbarrow to ferry her away
'The Mourning Tree' despondently sifts for nourishment its gummy combs of branches sashing particles from the night solution the tree ; a cavity too verrucose and fleshy to whittle the winds or fife a tune a rubbery craggle foreign against the landscape should rather make out its' habits off the floor of a deep sea trench
roughing in the corpse head first down the gullet thirstily skirts up and claustro between spread limbs to ***** puckle in the hollow tree evicting the bird of Minerva ‘whoing’ into the charged sky blooded over the night blackens further brooding on the event
who re-marrowed this hollow tree ? married themselves to a mythology ? force fed life engorged within deathly seed ? upended crime in lieu of a sacrifice he offered a glass of woman to oder the night he strummed teasing fingers raked them humming through the heady resistance of the air electric creeping warmth over the skin erecting the hairs museum silence an arena as fraught equal between magnets clouds cut the moon moon cut the eye sinful kiting to mend a link ramblings kinked he makes sparking incantations to the gods
one scatting madman one corpse woman
that same bled night where the furrowed fields meets natures disarray children approach this woodland border children with empty baked bean tins that they joined with lengths of string trying to reach out their ears extend their timid range to sprites, nymphs, pucks or faeries an older kid strikes up a cigarette one of the younger ones squats to *** and be mocked
one brave girl of ten years runs a tin and the line into the woods it jerks taunt after about thirty paces she wedges it in a tree fork and runs back the children crowd the receiver tin spooking themselves eavesdropping upon the hollow wisdom of small gods that mask their shame in the dark
influenced by ‘ Who put Bella down the Wych Elm? ‘
When a surgeon had to operate on a man, she was ******. She botched the operation because the patient was sexist. She learned he was sexist and botched the operation so that he would die. She bragged about it to her friends, it was something that she did not deny. But she didn't expect one of her friends to turn her in. Now she's rotting in prison, she's no longer a surgeon. She doesn't even realize she did wrong, she thought she had the right to ****. A surgeon is never supposed to take a life, it's a surgeon's duty to try to heal. She thinks her patient was **** but he was a better person than her. At least he didn't **** another human being, he was not a murderer.