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Originally posted by banyan
presenting your soul on a platter letting
its butter drip over onto the tearful whispering
those lips of your sister, scorned and scarred
like a mirror of shattered skittles - the reds
and yellows mostly allowing her breathe
to be my death - or at least my undoing
i know her words, the daggers that draw
pictures of red playgrounds - the metal
things that go round round round and i
vomit out reds yellows and this time green,
the grass has caught me, my soul and essence
out-of-body spinning to your ecstasy.