The night and day spin their webs,

Of melting amber and misty silver,

We are tangled in it like insects,

Who twist and writhe,

To try and get free,

Of our shadowy bindings,

Like manic, electrocuted spiders,

Jerking and screaming,

Bound in silver,

Smeared and scarred across glass,

Like mascara lumps,

On china blue eyes,

To blind and poison,

Concoct liquid-ink tears,

Framework of emotions,

Snap and splinter like bone-china,

Tendrils of blood fray and break,

As if they were threads of muscle and elastic,


Veins knotted like the bands of platinum,

That sealed her suicide pact,

The silver sliver of truth in 'til we die',

Rubies like blood-stained stars,

Studding suicidal wrist,

Dismissed as haemophilia blade,

Tourniquet of deadly silence,

Filth and copper, crimson lips,

Mechanical hearts,

Fuelled by drugged blood and lust,

Erase the data of names, needlepoint,

Across a heart of sparkling quartz,

Pretty diamond but cold and unresponsive,

Those names across it,

As if etched across a gravestone,

Negative acclaimed stained soul,

Lie down and die with this dying world.


The End

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