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 the taboo.

The End

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