October 4, 2009
in Category: Noise poem
0 2534 0

Kiss these sweet apocolips Plum red and

Ready to spit Whats said To be sacrilegious

Kiss these sweet apocolips A pout of pure disdain

Bitter as that which Remains unspoken

I lick these sweet apocolips

Thick with lipstick Stuck on with such relish

A polished gloss

Polished off Like us eventually


Cassette concepts connoisseur

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