Barbed wire drips from the cracked sky
Forming dream catchers entrapping doves
I sleep in a field of yellow grass and feathers
A human compost pile on orbiting garbage
(God's little mistake lives longer than Heaven)
My mouth is a minefield of scars and stitches
It bleeds hate with every breath of death and decay
Occasionally pleading with an exiled king
To die and go straight to purgatory
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
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