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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in MosquitoBytes Volume 03: Ensanguined Quiescence - 2005

The Sundering

Amaranthine Fetish

Turgid
This mind
Recoiling at love
Fearing new wounds
Yet I must on
Forward move
Without love I do not perish
I cease to bleed
She has my darkness
In her bloody hands I lie
There I will stay
Only the Daemon would remain
Yet Legion is hers also
So with trembling frame
I scatter the few facades rebuilt
Revealing  .   .   .

© 2005, Mosquitobyte

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