Child with the Broken PenMature

The darkness of the sunlight
Is the ache of the screaming abyss' heart;
Under seven thousand shells of steal
Your head holds its tinsel counterpart.

And in the eerie silence
That deep throats the Earth,
Your god holds your intestines;
Quake and burst.

You dream typewriter litanies,
And, honestly, fuck you;
The Mayflower sails at dawn:
You will ignore and tongue taboo.

The End

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