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It Was Always A Scene

for the time it takes it means, for the need it creates it, the spleen, syrup for days


couldn't containe the hatred building, can't be thinking things, you see, it hangs


the chain i even placed it round my own neck even said the words in my head


even stapled the face to the mattress as it slid even cut the surface of the cake


sideways could you tell it to me then againe, was i so surprised, once more to fall


questions all, outreached hand reaching for the end finding only once again the


endless beginning basking in it, just for today, by all means, and with every word


more necessary, shant make it to the day without falling in it that black abyss of the


mind swirling madnesses i swear it to be a non-thing, vintage at the calling of a key


find me nought no more a bitter man better at the bitten hand basking in the blasphemy


what could it be the circumstance round the hydeiousness of circumfranced radiuses


radianting glorious pasts, silver weeps down the moonlit cheek, how could you go without


me, without me, you fiend! twas' just a trip ago just a life long wish just my one last tear


dropped collected them all in the basket of the begger, i had never even seen the one


diamond dog, i had never recollected the mindless fog, the miscreant, the misses then


shall she be a theif, stealing once again the momentary nuances of time spinning round


the compass, art thou no more clown, art thou no more than thy offended collar, art thou


no more than this thy lapsed death, already at the laugh i couldst almost believe it was


a momentary staking, all for the weaponry lifted by the title gifted to the one whom so shall


be and shall always then be then the wickedest fiend thou dancing madness thou decipher


me wickedly abruptly thou dost remember it, do you remember who are you, couldn't yet


begin to recall darling, hardly dearest of the worst wings, all a'feathery, twas' just a wishful


thought thinking caught wishes for the worst of me, the dark depth where things still art to


be, alive in thee to find nought exists at the vast expanse, how revolting, how inarticulate at


the dashing sword tip, swallowed about a thousand rounds of the game of names to be


have I spoken yet speaking silly dalliance thinking what it is to dance around the point of a


dagger's blade cackling crow's feet carved into my face the clown's paint what couldst that


be called, metal petal tipped for a larger portrait, paint the canvas with the eggshell mixed


just a bit of the secret ingrediant that makes it just a bit more lucid, just the stroke had oft


beneath the stage before the hatch gave way and the curtain lifted, before the seats were


empty, this place is going to the dogs, hardly took time at all, auctioned off, going once


round it twas, going twice for the squared equation, entropy is a mindless occasion, it does


happen now and again, occasionally, once in a while is more than somtimes my friend, so


there it was and how is it to be once more indefinitely to tread, ah, unto the heaviest, wasn't


it something then, nothing better than, nothing more to it than the spread, never a better


garden grown herb then the alchemic best, she's got a married man, she's in a pair of pants


you don't know your hand from your best vest suit pocket watched clicked, time it, takes


nothingness divided, takes the best stance of the love-wrought land to be held closed in


the paradigms of loviliness, what's so good about that, where is it left the emptiness a


accursed in cursive i almost lifted a pen to touch paper to the ink, almost painted a sunset


where the skyline seperates the mountains, almost broke the glass of the fountain flowing


liquid nothingness, i've an abundance, reflection oft had for the face it makes looking black

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