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Skeleton Prince Apr 2018
Perceiving the taste of yesterday's forgotten sandwich.
I, soon feel the caress of my fingers subsiding the itch for a ***.

With tears of penitence.
I, recall the woman I've romanticized other than you.
Content with passion they had shed onto me.
Skeleton Prince Jan 2018
Burned lips, charcoal lungs prowling for a breath.
Death wags its tail smells for a flesh to sink its teeth into.
Mortal man;
Entangled in the sweet web of addiction. Caught in a suicidal company. Yet, never strayed.
Something beats within my frame. A rotten heart. Shallow, but it evokes pain.
Eyes dimmed by apathy. My bleeding wrist soaked the canvas in red.

Instable mind,
Infected void,
A vulnerable body which greets the morning with a fever. Between the fingers holding a brand new
*** subsides the itching.
Lacking lustre,
Pushing pain into poetry and prose. Subconsciously, I, emulate the old dogs and the papery white
moon smirks at my endeavour.

With a razor,
With a rope,
I, tried to bid this poet a farewell. But, he never departed.
Madness off the leash,
Broken tiles of dreams pave the floor. Not the stars.
Hung bodies crowded the sky.
I'm a cheat, a thief.
Sadness in a vessel. A dying light in the night and what made you think you could save me?

— The End —