Wednesday, 4 January 2012

Schizophrenic Dance Party

Cover me in the kisses of your idiocy.
Sugar me and piss on me and let me be free.
My lover, painter, female impersonator.
My ragtag group of friends with maniacal hands
and caravans filled with broken bottles and pitiful men.

And the girl begins to dance again.

Soulless, wandering , etched in the snowflake legs of the chosen.
Solitary muttering little trinkets of words softly spoken.
You, cart wheeling into my territory of kings.
Running away from what shackles you to wherever your from,
wherever you called home.

And the girl begins to dance again.

Shaking out of this skin of mine,
throwing it into the swamp to feed the leeches in my mind.
I am a beating heart, falling apart,
in abandoned car parks in the filthy part of town.

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