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Fuck it;)

Word smith an unintelligent gun smith power lives, in the sound between your lips so girls bend your hips just jokes so, Netflix and chill, ...

Sunday, 8 November 2020

The unspoken self.

Driving force to change course
from distorted thoughts
born of breathing the static pause
placed behind closed doors, abhorred
monstrous creation deceived with smiling claws
socially alien flesh laughingly torn
regenerates from a monstrosity of an imagination
though strapped on table, guts unveiled, in the ask for patience
idle meditation amidst the gore of surgery stalled
lies consciousness wrought, open to a foes visitation
distant strangers observe, with debatable fascination
and Frankenstein stands, awaiting the living gratification
though stands confused in the echo of a sons, resounding hesitation.