let me tell you of the raven's sins.

Reading: Who reads anyway, right.
Listening to: the beating of my mind.
Mood: greasy.
2014 September 22, 9:04 PM.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

She Has No Use

Her lover lives in the mirror;
she in a dream.
Her voice is wind chimes;
her heart the buzzing of car alarms.
She has no use but to love you.
Her drink is the drops
falling from her red, red eyes.
Her home is a hole in the center of the Earth
where heat stings like Hell
and hippie rodents
her somewhat distant neighbors.
When Moon cracks and Sun breaks,
you shall be the last one standing there —
chips of her forever riling to cut you.
It is you she had hoped to find:
the violence in your gaze,
darkness in your hands,
and oneness spilling off your mouth.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013, 1:53 – 2:10 AM

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