Me

TitlesA mind schismed with foreign tongues and haunting whispersTitles
Those obscure syllables glazed with indiscriminate sentiment.
That fervent mania tatters my fractured, splinter thoughts.
I drown airless in a fiery lake of swirling, repeating, storming, recurrent, incessant...
The exterior smiles wickedly in a death still statue stance,
an insect skin long abandoned,
a crusty husk too fragile to stand the gentlest touch,
motionless eternity in perfect imperfection,
frozen mercilessly in it's own monumental self-loathing.
Glove
Heya Andy
--
"Your world be shattered with nary a note, of one cupids arrow under your coat"
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