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SøułSurvivør Mar 2016
Across the water he skates with feet of clay. Frigid eels in his veins, they slither under his skin. His blood is volcanic ice. His forehead is an avalanche. His eyes are frozen atolls. His soul is made of liquid nitrogen. Dancing, he's the creature 10000 Leagues Under the Sea. At rest the iceberg that wrecked the Titanic. Don't come near him ladies. He comes off as a nice little cuttlefish. But he will lash out with his whip pads, ****** you into his ***** beak, and glomb on with every sucker he owns.
He's a real masher, the Disco Slasher, Mr Goodbar X 10. Comes off as a "Nice Guy".
Comes off as a "Friend". But watch out for his Frozen tentacles. They will be your END.


SoulSurvivor
(c) 3/10/2016
Another spoken word poem created by my voice prompted typing feature. It started out as a message about politicos and sort of changed enroute. Constructive criticism welcome.

I'm going to sleep now. Nite all.

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— The End —