Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Tuesday, September 16, 2008


When the time comes to breathe in your poison
I shall breathe sparce breaths - deeply
I shall call to a stranger from across the room
To help me die, to use his tool of destruction.
Having you in my hands, small item you are
Your cause and purpose my demise,
Yet I serve you! I want you. I own you
Sweet one from across the room, tell me your lie.
Give me your hand in gentle, abrasive touch
teach me what it is you do with your thumb
And tickle with gentle burning my senses.
I watch you dance, naver letting my poison,
My own end; from my sight as you
Flicker from my view, you dance gone.
I, too am gone and lost in your embrace.
Your poison spreads all too slow as I breathe.
I suck deep, blow gentle, I strain to breathe
Slow breath, Sparce breath
Until your poison is gone I sit here dying
In my tiny room, with my pen and words.
They wring from me your ghastly embrace.
And I am free again from death.
I will try again tomorrow.
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