Some Poetry to tickle your fancy, or brake your heart.
Trace scars on carbon paper and pass me off as an educational childrens book. Hide your eyes from the truth and never call it false media, you'll never see soilders and surgens braking into your ear drums. I eat love like air. If you wish to live twelve minutes longer, throw away your illiteracy and your childish naivete. Then, gather up feeble stars, balls of fire exploding in the sky, Exploding in the face of god. I'm shaking so hard. Vibrations of dispair as if they were the soulds own oxygen. My lips, pale as a ghose amongst a sea of angels with influenza. Sparkling halos bent from stoned obliviation, the effects of your seldom laughter or smile. Feirce remakes come from under un-dying bloodshot eyes. Can't you at least see me? I know my being is as thin as paper, my knowledge as insignificant as a grain of salt. But you can taste it. Please, say you can taste it. It might sting your brick red slashed and swollen mouth. But it'll take away the water, so you wont drown anymore. Can you read this, glasseyes?