About Me

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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Thursday, May 3, 2012


What is black
Is curdled and trapped,
Misty fumes from frothy lips
That seal florescent crap.

Fingernails are weapons
Not sharp enough,
Flesh is drug,
Ripped, rotten, steaming,

Muffled screams
Find their way out
Into an unwelcome overcrowd
As knocking irritants
Turn banging bastards.
Sniff hard
And harder,
What I found
Is stinking
And stinking harsher.

You've devoured my soul
And cleaned up the plate,
My dearie baby,
Now if I give you an ache
Am I a fucking ingrate?

Empty spaces left here for too long
Filled with dark of the night
Settled deep and beyond.
Black is too strong.
Black is the light.
Black is the new white.
Black is wrong.
Black holds my hand.
Black is too strong.
They call me black,
I am black,
I wish I was
All along.

Giggle I hear,
Kisses I see,
Scandal I know
But you're free.
I'll cover it all in black,
Inside is where it belongs,
Settled deep and beyond.