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2011-03-13 | |
Museum or mausoleum?
Rotting carcass embalmed in such tender cocoon.
Swollen black sky with perpetual contrasts.
Joy bleeds out of pain, and pain results in the depression of expectation.
Blood is corpse rain dyed red.
Veins are rivers of anatomical transport.
But we all endeavor to persecute the contrast.
Illusions of healing, brought by constables, rendering the cozened brainwash.
The brainwash, that washes away only emptiness.
Emptiness is the only inexperienced schmaltz.
Emptiness poluted by reactions.
Bleak and cold,
Humility has venom of adrenaline that leaves
you empty handed.
Flesh drowns porcelain bones, into a sea of scum.
Apocalypse obliterates all moral standards.
Stars are the time-travel.
So much accumulation, yet to unravel.
Hemorhages; the loss of what you had.
No tradition is ever engraved.
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