Hit The Floor

My Poetry

Bronze liquid
cascades as waterfalls
down the barren barrels of desert dorsals

The enveloping pus swells larger within my cerebellum
Thunder enveloping me in emptiness and wonting sickness

Like that time I rode in your devilish car
I was helpless in the onslaught of fury and rain
As fire and brimstone ruined my parade
my city of light;
immortality lost in a maddening fright

Why am I this way?
I mourn the imagination of a tainted, sainted life

Coal is my favourite color
How can it not be when all that I am is burned, remaining as ashy embers and charred soot?

I need rebirth
From this shit, from this game
From the grave my grandfather rolls around in when he knows my disdain

The ghoul won me over
I’m fading;
I’m waiting to glint as a weapon yet unbrandished
It will never be,
Blood was fresh before I hit the floor.

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