Fold No Wings

The existence that expels your youth, breathing harsh little words your face is discoloured. Do not banish me for I shall avenge.

I live not for you and I love not for you. This place resents me and I it. Do not fold my wings for they shall take flight,

The wind will rush and leave you standing in the dust.

Courageous shamrocks loaded like swathes of sand, Gemini contusions in the pock marked face of brutality, senility and cruelty. Devouring the wind like a sand storm dogfight, apocalyptic burns, post-rock, kiss, stop, and live a little love each day. Fold no wings, for they fly away. Folding little clots of paper in the stream of my vex, my mind.

I like not this figure skating in the dark, break through the ice and down into open water. Your open wounds they mark mine own and you shout. Hush the sound; let gentle feathers sweep into everlasting slumber. The voice is not your own, why walk where the feet doth tread when the other path beckons?

Peroxide hammers coalesce with the steel fingers of thought, sharpened blades caress the ancient heart of marble, the ice, the slates of brain, crushed in coagulating dreams, breathe heavy with the edge of a knife, cancelling the shadows crusade, the memories grasped at gun point, everlasting feathers sweep gentle slumber in a change of heat, a change of touch, an err of thought. We've begun. 

The End

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