fredag den 23. januar 2015

i sleep way too loud and
there's a menacing crowd
when the light strikes down from a pisscoloured cloud
my dreams lie at anchor in worlds ripe with hate
and i'd go there to die and be proud

in my face there's a fight
that i'll bury tonight
in the game of one thousand reflections of spite 
not the creedence of flesh that lies still in the flood
but a darkness that boils in the light

 

 


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