Wednesday, November 25, 2009

3 yellow flowers

Apple.

Coated in candy.

A disguise of the senses,

Exhilaration to taste.

A fake.

Sweetness upon sickly sweetness.

Painful in a good way.

Painful in a horrid way.

You have brought me to this.

No use for a name,

Nor a gesture.

Black apple.

Rotten with refineries,

Sour as the

Vinegar of my words.

I am really bad at

Allowing you to die by

Yourself. 

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