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Replying to a comment on:
I want to slit my wrist and call it poetry (Prose Poem) by thepinkbunnyofdoom
I'm so depressed, I could write an epic so terribly beautiful and
cutting that you'd want to feed me rat poison and razorblades. I could
sing for you the sonnet of a thousand days gone by, and even with my
terrible voice, you'd tremble in my honesty. Love bound to lust is cheap
and dies with our youth, stealing innocence. I never wanted this, I
never wanted any of this. This virus written on my lips, and scorching
my throat, will be the death of me. While you've been looking westward,
I've been thinking east and across the Atlantic. The toxins I've been
drinking like water, are starting a war in my intestines. I can only
watch, as the gunshots tell of a battle for higher ground. I once fought
in a similar campaign, that was celebrated with cheap champagne and a
wedding ring. That was before they found the shrapnel lodged in my chest.
The pistons pumping fuel to my extremities started to rust, and as the
pressure failed, the color of my face began to fade. You said I was
dying, sure as the sun sets in the west, I was inclined to agree. So don'
t look so surprised, to see me praying, this one last call for
redemption. Fever on the march, while I'm on the run. This heap
screeching it's own final cry, I guess it's down to games of rat and
mouse. As we recall the steps to this waltz known as simple conversation,
don't forget, I have these damn weak knees. So as the rot drops from my
tongue, please look away. I'm tired of stitching stab wounds with barb-
wired bandages. If you're going to point that gun to my head, make sure
it's loaded, so that when you drop the hammer, I'll stop breathing
before my back falls to the floor.
I tried to kidnap you, and failing miserably, I went for a kiss. I
should have known better than to steal from a thief. You stole my heart,
and I let you. Now said fragile organ, has turned to steel. Colder than
iron, I no longer feel the beat, and it might not break but on occasion
I do. I thought I had this road mapped out, until I learned it stretched
beyond the horizon. I'm lying down tonight, tell me if I mutter in my
sleep, or if you're father pulls into the drive. I'm asking you tonight,
if I can listen to a carbon monoxide lullaby, and sleep until all of
this is over.
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