September 14, 2006
Screaming with a wounded throat from the hit of a perfume and pheromone tipped bullet
I swallow the the lead and my own blood so how did your scent escape me?
Bang, bang, bang, baby blow me away
Fully automatic, oh, this carbine love
One last breath… but don’t close my eyes yet, just let your face burn in one last time
’cause for you i love to burn inside, and it just doesn’t die, so baby, say goodbye
With my kiss on your chest
And your bayonet in mine
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September 6, 2006
I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been. You asked, where? All I can tell you is that I was between society’s legs and looking up her skirt. We were all alone when one of her buff bodyguard boyfriends brought his badge to break the fun. He didn’t see the camera flash; he heard her alarm bells shriek. Except when he arrived I was already right where he wanted: gone. Only hiding and I couldn’t stay away because her door was still open even when no one was there to come or go inside. I returned and approached him to tell him: the man he came to find was still inside. Gun in hand he walked cautiously into the same darkened hallways. His gun must have made him blind because his true target was already in his sight. There were two hearts plated in armor in the building that day. Except where I walked with curiosity, imagination, and even sympathy for souls stuck there somewhere: he walked with duty in mind, gun in hand, and fear in heart. He never found who he was looking for because he was looking for a man that I imagined. I also never found what I was looking for, because I was looking for solace in solitude. Society says such seclusion surely sabotages sanity.
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