Medusa Touch

 Medusa_by_Caravaggio_2~2

Incinerate. The touch of a madman. Beat his brains out. Diaries that never speak. A drop of whiskey. More tears than smiles. More sea than earth. How we fight against it, each and every day. Broken ribs. Split lips. Tube fed dysmorphia. Is it cruel, to breed destruction? Surely not, in a world that embraces fire. A gift for disaster. Don’t resist. No delusions, only truth. Dirty little bitch, reeking of cheapness and man made hell. Seedy little seeds, decades past their prime. Father knows no meaning. Relics. Buildings for dead people. Suicide journalist. Crushed beneath gallons of spurious words with not one ounce of fact. Teenage delusions, spread high and dry. London dead, full of ghosts and despair. Old like evil. Power in our hands. Smeared across bellies of gold. Morbid loner, all lonesome like a fading sun. Not responsible. A non entity. Hidden depths. Myopic. Anemic like whores. The walls of jericho. Pious nothings. Paintings hold me close. Eyes alive, and ready to devour. Screaming skulls. Existence. Black doors to the middles class. Photographs. Massacres of the innocent. Tragedy upon tragedy, stuffed into every hole. 

Out of the arena. Autumn leaves blown so cruel. Finger-lickin’ nausea, horrid and betrayed. Bottles and cents. No sense in suicide. The will to fuck. The thrill to consume. No law, no heart. Absence of connections. Lacking/cracking. My lord of villains, prosecute and masturbate. Venerable and torrid. Mutilate the grotesque. Piss pathetic. Blow it sky high, and suffocate all the non believers. Hapless words, and pointless direction. Outside of society. The only place to be. Something in the way we move. Ringing bells, breasts that fit my hands just right. Take off that dress, and let me do my thing. A million victims, dripping from your sex. Love, in every area we deem to deny. Journals lost. Hate and disdain, swimming like they did all those years ago. Withered birth. No devils, just pain. Dark ages tickled into painted flesh. Performers aren’t we all. Richard Burton. A god you’ll never know. Atomic. Plutonic. Bubble with cracks, ready for drowning. Mother. Daughter. Hush now, dying shadow of something not quite right. Tomorrow never comes. You can’t deny me, for I’m within and without. Mirrored obscure, creeping something sure. Take and break me. Tell me, that I’m everything you’ll ever need. All that can never be left behind. 

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