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Staying Alive (Free verse) by darylchew
Slumping over his armchair, with crimson flowing like the sad tears of God from his wrists, All hail the stinging sharpness of this about-to-be murderer, as the poison spreads over the floor like a disease. His last thoughts was a nightmare, lust desire and temptation for two cold clammy strangers, Was it a twist of fate? Determined intentions forbid but falters, to the unintended outcome - He struggles for breath. Hurriedly passing him by, the winds of Time leaves him sitting on a throne Of shredded red ribbons.

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xxx68.166.37.1850June 16, 2005 11:07 AM PDT
Dovina204.250.12.2465April 20, 2005 3:57 PM PDT
Tintagiles142.166.250.206April 20, 2005 10:08 AM PDT



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