Adamanatease

[deathinyourarms]

0412 0336

Rewind the mystery:
there is no history.
Conceiving fragments of dreams
I may have seen on movie screens.
A televised execution
of extremists exaggerating
streams of nuclear consciousness.
A syringe filled with festering fear
friendliest of peers
flowing into flasks of fucked tears
and fucking take this wheel & steer.
I've had it up to here
wherever that line may be
I'll march along it; prance so sullenly

And Dear, do you feel the breath
of Death so near?
It is neither cold nor clammy,
but pleasantly warm and clear.