the muse hands me the blade
in this time that derives as hate
the silken pillows sweeten the harvest
time drifts on a memory
as sweet as it sounds
I loose my rhythm
and count
one
two
three
as silver shadows
hide my blind hate
violence
lives under this skin
blow
open palmed as the dust from yesterday
escapes
breathes
cunts
less than this
cunts
less than another
allow me the temperance
exist
beyond
sweeten a day
sounds drift in my ear
as voices drown out
n I kill
in another day
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