deepundergroundpoetry.com

Nothing late.

You certain �
a stoned tongue in bones �
�� rubs me blur slowly �
�� half praying rebels in smoke �
and how i sway the other day �
diluvian parts of mine �
�� cutting every after vision �
�� unwatched building dark �
i ran my mind �
in your voice legibly, �
�� slathered �
�� i was complex �
inked inward cure..less �
in your brusies once and all �
�� you wanted me wireblack �
�� nights preceds in ghost,latched �
just as wind bloods and �
blades, �
�� blade in frosted fingers �
�� blade in door smokes �
i only remember �
'fix me'precisely till �
�� second home still �
�� freezeth in pill factory
selling: �
no dependencies,no desires �
�� and i shall be the truth of your touch �
�� in those empty walls.