2003-01-07

the dead

:: cursive ::

somewhere lost
beside the strong
willed facade,
there lies a
thorn of bravery

touching palaces
in the sky,
bright with meaning,
a secret
slavery

conditions are spiteful,
so forget
your false
disposition and
sunny skies

no more
am i desperate,
i pity you,
your face
and your lies

infatuated details
composing
smoke shows
with a
cigarette

peering into
a shadow
nothing
but a
simple silhouette

matched
and fallen
feet first,
into your
wall of red

let be
what stands still,
and always
bury
the dead

lunaadored at 10:20 p.m.

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