Sunday, June 20, 2010

I prayed for a cure, I used to kneel with a bright outlook on life.
This brain of mine tortures me with scenarios unlike any others
Where I lay sprawled across a church floor with my sight blackening
As hoards upon hoards of women lurk through the stained glass.
Grabbing at my limbs and tearing at my pale and sickened flesh.
Blood running down there chins from the cute corners of their mouths.

My intestines now a rope to drag me closer to them.
Why couldn't they go for the heart or brain first?

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