Treasure Island

Cin Sweet Fields


He


When the sun bleeds
On and through the window panes
Indiscriminately so
Him tasting of my sour skin
Seeing my trembling hands so white
Belly laughing, him a king of liars
Hiding behind my back
His black eyes feasting on
what's left of my brain
As he gently shuts the blinds

Submitted: Friday, June 01, 2007
Edited: Sunday, May 18, 2014

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Topic(s): insanity

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