Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Down the Rabbit Hole.


"Soft grey tea in my delicate cup, floating ashes on the surface always
The harsh murky tide crashes on the gritty shore of personal sanity
The needy roots of dry skeletal trees now keep me standing
Cotton candy clouds still suspended in the setting evening
Animal corpses decaying in the shadows of my mind
The sexual reproductive organs tied tightly into bouquets
The fragile music drifts through shallow souls
Not all who wonder are lost
Sometimes dreams blur into reality
step on no pets
keep it clean
eat me
now."

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