Wednesday, February 9, 2011

(Paris) Arm 65

Don't let the frantic

dawn blood shed in the rat pit

open up the comatose

shed light onto the vanished

breathe air into the lungless

break the speed of sound

with bass blown from the lamp lit

trace clones now throw

eliminate the duplicates

shadowed faces

dropped down and out

blade feign to pout

freight sought to catch

rip wide the batch

slay wash the match

smoke em if ya got em

cuz I flail like I'm haunted

burn dreams like braille

like I'm too frail

still out for the wanted

all static no stale

wind to the sails

like I haven't forgotten

that the spirit won't last

cut and paste sense slash

dotted line determined

we's still of the vermin

so bottoms up humans of humans

and drink deep

cuz I'm still here yo

til the last daft the last crash

the last laugh the last sermon...

ya steeped...

knuckles to knuckles...

heart of the secret we keep...

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