
The Leptosomatic Waltz
There is a doorway
Somewhere down those clock-clean, bleeding streams of sleep
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A blooming time we made of it, midnight dancing
And the leaves hung like skin
The air-licked darkness warm as sleep's soft fingers on the face
That forgotten night of the little goddess
The rain beat down like screams
We all were
Blind to that unholy nothing
The silent flight of time in the crawling skies
Those mad eyes in the butchers' garden
I thought I saw
And sanity, the impetus for our stillborn dreams
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The slowrain fell heavy
Palpable it seems, though now I know
A flower-gentle time of sleeping air, and so we whispered
And what a thing it is, a whispered laugh
Untouchable beauty
And pain more sweet than I could bare
Our stranger-steps took us through the questions of a nameless wonder
In that still-spinning ethereality of that tender lightfall through the vanilla clouds
So every breath was our first
And all our spellbound memories-real-as-time a cool, fresh nothing
A restless dream
And then we drowned
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And then, and then, the day broke!
And light spilled upon that love-corrupted corpsefield time
When the words of morning buried what was never born
A nameless beauty, cause for all my narcissistic suicide premonitions
A savage flower of the only birth
I would have changed
And we, in our faith, were murderers
Shook-hearty bloody hands
Planted slow kisses on that freshly-dead neck
Embraced, with masochistic smiles, our slow, psychotic, lovesick maledictions
Ghost-white memories of our breathless young-tongue touching in the dying light of days
And our star-dancing, shotgun stares lit up the blackness
Burned in the shadows of the cold-smoke anthem
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And then it came
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The restless bad-blood pumped
Dawn brought prayers
And we, the choirs of rampage, drew the blood into our cheeks
And the very darkness shivered
Gave way to a cannibalistic morning
That was the waterway for a maniac light
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But the flower never, never bloomed
And no fruit fell
So we that ate sleep underground
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There is a doorway
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