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Illusion's Harangue
Contributed by
screwge
on
Tuesday, 24th June 2008 @ 02:25:16 AM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Dangle an anchor
From this festering chancre,
If it wrests me from the mast
Where so evident is the past.
My mouth is metal-acrid.
The gums are scourged and sacred.
For what palliates the scurvy,
Let this boat go topsy-turvy.
Flay me with a whip
Along the mottled lower lip.
Prick me with a thorn
Where I was born.
It is not pain as sheer
As your absence from here,
More callused out on the bow
Unsummoned by the now.
My third eye fools.
From eating only gruels?
This view is playing tricks;
This river looks like Styx.
Beyond the pretend scrimmage,
I saw your fleeting image.
Give me Illusion’s harangue;
Shout that sirens never sang.
Copyright ©
screwge
... [
2008-06-24 02:25:16] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Illusion's Harangue
(User Rating: 1 ) by shelby on
Tuesday, 24th June 2008 @ 04:57:15 AM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
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I find this write intense,
I liked the flow of it as well.
You write on such a deep level I shall go read it once more.
Michelle |
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