13 December, 2013

Sweet sweet massacres


Blood
lights up in azure.

Earth cries her paranoid sap.

Poetry is slicing the thighs of tenderness.

Creamy naiads
refresh
the fluffy hole of anal roar.

Thus,
my phallic skull
is singing
the sensorial immanence
of
sweet milky massacres
and
burning streams of silence.






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