Bricks of Myrtle

1 February 2016

My body tears apart
Upon its peripheral side
I get to thinking

About the ghosts that knock politely
Whilst I fix my demented cereal
Brush my stockpile hair
Stare at the vicious bricks

All I can see on the red faces
Is how wondrous you always look
With your hair tied back neatly
How much I love you and
That sweet manufactured smile

And how my Hyde hands
Committed sweet suicide
Before my bloodshot eyes
Could even move in
REM

Blast love
I never feel this cold and alone
In the afternoon

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