“You’re the light of my world”
Quoth the moth to the
Statues are so beautiful
Age shall not wither them
Photos frame milliseconds
So
Hideous in their glory
Kings intoxicate starvelings with fumes
The rich moisten
Oily hands wag a finger
In a hypochrist tirade
Greasy palms rubbed
They never see the daylight
For as the whip cracks at
In motionless night
Where Diana scans
The lay of the land
From her
Some day Chris will quit his desk job
Leave the rat
Praise then darkness and creation unfinished
I am your lost lust,
I seek to extract
Their toxins from my mind
But their venom
You come strolling through sunbeams
Or striding through rain
Drops that flow
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