lips on a rapture of ripping

Feb 05, 2004 18:23

your lips. cherry. haunting. bruised...your lips:
kiss my broken finger tips
I have become a thief praying on your victim touch
I couldn’t save your distress. Because your forging that sorrow so much.
Plastering my ruby mouth into a smile
So you wont notice a flourishing hate
Were noticing that they would hate to waste a beautiful girl
They hide her maiming and swathe it with lifeless tenuous hair
Covering her heart along with her damage
For its not a heart, its directly a dull pulsation
Parade the ailing clatter of your bone hitting my veins
Parade the though of pitiful un-regarded litter
Suppress manners whilst I compose my tongue-tied pains
Collection of dust
Because that’s what I am to your fist, as policy bawls: hit her. hit her.
Someone prevent my gashes from scaring
Someone hand me a 911 essential for calling
Cruelty in my stare
Is delight in yours.
Kiss my broken finger tips.
As I’m begging you to stop
.Stop slashing me to rips.
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