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the_author
The Gasoline Orchid - Subscribe
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It's my haunting, an orchid made of gasoline. sweet, yet bitter with loss. My silouette of what was on what would never hault and never be. It's a stolen perfume, ideal for a funeral now. Placed upon my sweating skin every now and then as it was hers. A subtle reminder. To lose her just as you find her. Slowly. It's a face, a moment. Like her cold mouth on a sweltering day or a soft cheek beneath aching fingers. Her perspiration like rain, pure like petrol. And her eyes, ripe with love and suicide. They observed the world below my brow not five inches, And I enthrawled by an iris. It was a morning, now a mourning of sorts. The dwelling of my now perfect stranger My visits and lies short lived, with long reprecussions. |
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the_author
Veins Jun 19th, 2006 10:37:27 pm - Subscribe
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Staring up toward the cobwebs a somber baseline plays seconds crawl among the rafters above blurring the nights with the days A million faces I have come to see and there's a million more to be a million thoughts i would have come to know but today its all a little numb... If you had no choice but bleeding would you sit and watch your veins? if you were shackled to the concrete would you ever chew your chains? if you couldn't find the walls now would your windows stop the rain? if there was no one there for you to see could you soon forget could you soon forget your name? its a letter mailed to no one but myself a creation of my own jaded breath, and the dirt in my hand am I writing this alone? if everything I know was hopeless would I be numb enough to stand? is there ever a beginning when when your life is just an end If you had no choice but bleeding would you sit and watch your veins? if you were shackled to the concrete would you ever chew your chains? if you couldn't find the walls would the windows stop the rain? if there was no one there for you to know could you soon forget - could you soon forget your name? |