Is It Poetry
Bloody Cuts - Poem by Is It Poetry
Ardently the mouth to brain crossed impulse.
It is not from other things to thus upon I force.
That which we want,
we want it now because we want to know we live.
Stronger and like Vlad the impaler it is stronger, comes the urge.
It compares to forces like the burning red, pink running sun.
I ignore it that it is I can no longer.
But to you of this I make this promise,
there is an importance to you, that it is selfish,
because I have known of it, know you.
I have drank the blood of others it is bloody Mary salty.
You are not so badly damaged wherefore that,
I presume that when therefore,
yours is the mouth that is restricted by the impulse to the brain.
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