Monday, March 14, 2011

unfinished

You're quite the compelling speaker with that barrel down your throat. As if I were an insidious scavenger awaiting your final heave of existence. To throw your body against the grain, into my estate, pouring fluids down your desolate, frozen throat. As I breathe fire, falling heavily against the nape of your neck, with the imagination of a vindictive delinquent, burdened and condescending, your trachea rests between my teeth.

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