Wednesday, May 7, 2014

old serpents.

featherless,
steps away
she calls me Most Unclean;
Abaddon, Son Of Perdition
in wicked conversations amongst trusted friends
fell from the heavens we did, rocketing across the skies,
leaving a trail of ash and charred memories

a library of shudder-moves; double-takes
a discotheque of blankets and sheets
on a night like this,
(with lives like this)
you don't stop the song, you just wear better shoes

I'll keep the music playing, my love
but I've erased your name in the books that matter
abandoned and given up on
abandoned and given up on
quitter

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