One Sun of a Wanker
26-06-2010 18:29
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Can't rest dead on my hotbed...
over the fahrenheit...
Wish to dress in snakes
and crawl out of the box
to the high
by incandescent veins
There is odium sun
wanking his gun
at the streets...
flooding wits...
trading them for the weeds
of black cancer...
Harder... harder... the volcano is wet
with chemical heat
in the head...
I'd hide in the cloud of wine
where the shadows grow
and wait
'till the sun dries his drain
To fall for the showers
of liquor
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