Killing It

Killing me mockingly
Softly rocking me to sleep
My grave is my cacophony
Marked for the blot of me
Dust to dust, smoke the pot of me
Love me lines, yet there’s no dot of me
Balling is not in me
Touched up by a teachers sexless monotony
manifested as scrotal lobotomy
I moan to find pleasure from the pain
Just Come and make it rain
Ravage my eloquence
like you the were first and only
Tread me into the dirt like you are the sole me
Soon to be the soul me
I will drain away from your reality
screaming through the veins of infamy
evaporating as blood and mucus off the bones of infidelity
A microcosm of invalidity
Sinus waves turned away to a wall of silence
encroaching on that peaceful violence
It is not that I would be death but science
white stripes of blackness without a head stone
A red bone chained to systematic daggers and a fulcrum of politeness
Mullered by mullahs of peace so I in dying I write this
to live

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