Music for mice. Acid for giants. Urban fairy tales for feather brains.

Friday, August 12, 2011

UNLOVED UNLOVING nothing has changed in years

the good ones are taken

the wise ones are not

the wise ones will not be taken

the wise ones do not look good

i no longer care for wisdom

her little brother walks behind me everywhere I go

I prefer the chopping block

swiftly, boldly terminate me with one decisive thrust

but promise me i will feel one moment's bliss

steal me, sweet thief

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