deepundergroundpoetry.com

Sun of Death

S �
�� p �
i �
�� R �
a �
��L �
�
life is a turntable �
Russian Roulette �
�
Click.. click... click... �
�
Better luck �
�� N e x t �
Tiiiiimeeeeee �
�
Ah, but I am not �
a maiden of Silhouettes �
�
I am silhouetted �
��in the �
depths of my own �
destruction �
�
--------________--------- �
�
Excuse me �
�� Can I get the �
next train to �
Never-again-ville? �
�
No more him �
No more him/s �
trying to release their �
Guns from their hold-Alls �
�
And trying to shoot �
W h � �i t � �e �
�
Over the gemstone �
of olive skin �
�
'In your language �
"It" means dog...' �
�
dogs cum too �
�
��American accents �
play out on the TV �
�� I misssssss your �
voiceeeeeeeeeee, �
Mr American �
�
Call me again �
I know you begged �
to hear my voice one �
last time. When I F RO Z E �
You out. �
�
But I �
I mean you �
�� The idea of �
Your love was �
More gorgeous than �
having my soul burnt by �
milesssssss between �
Us �
�
miles between �
My cunt and your cock �
�
But you were malignant �
you were the cancer lying �
upon my skin �
�� Clawing my flesh from �
my bones �
�
& you called me �
the princess of Suicide �
but I never actually �
ended up dying of my �
own accord. �
�
I'd rather you killed me �
but I cut you �
away, far �
far away from �
my heart... �
�
�� Before the sun of death �
could wink. �
��B l o o d
Y y y y

Murder....