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Apocalypse


Moan Lisa


Published by Mermaid Press at Smashwords


Public Domain


These spinning plates of our survival; and we are wrapped in leather

casing for the duration of the work, my greed; my lust and my love

for you grow heavy in the mind; I desire more than anything a touch


Of your delicate prose; scripted upon my skin, in buried ink


And to the night I wrestle, to the ground I weep and keep collection

what we may bare; between our sheets, and I salve the eyes with sweet

poisonous balm; and corrupt your moods with bitter leaves taken from


The trees, you trust in me with innocent surrender; while I trust


In the lack of a god; in the bounty of the flesh, in nothing. And I

would have you sit upon me and slave over me; and fetch the water

from the well, to poison yourself


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