Night without End
The only loose jaw
when life ends
tastes like blood around
the red river that never ends
all that remains is the cry
the death of a thousand cuts
the bandstand demons lies in writing
the elder Gods fear the strengths
in endless night
killer instincts proliferate
the pages turn themselves for me
Behind the glass in your book foresight
the trunk down by the river
and shall desire rising high boot
her corset and bloody freezing
my fangs touching her neck and flute.
Arthur Nett
03/06/2011
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