Hamburger stains upon your veins and I feel like I
could dye your lips redder then I've ever done
before. Hold to your curling iron cauterizing
feet burned fast to the floor; gonna dance with my
hands and peel the skin from your sores.
Lemony freshness clears paint out of your saline
tears; You're gonna fail tonight... in front of
all your peers... a half-eaten page of biblical
commands corners your fears with the threat of
magnanimous greed and busted frontiers.
Save your grave words for the pit I digged for
you... the coup d'état crunching fried corneas
behind the end of the queue; all waiting for a
field of view of the vice holding you under your
tattoos.
[15:50|26.10.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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