Friday, 12 March 2010


Red hot razor blades
tenderly trace lines across my soul.
Ley lines,
fault lines,
lines to cross.
They slip,
burning sweetly,
trailing bloody kisses through my thoughts,
tattooing memories
in psychedelic pain.
They bite deep,
blazing words to my brain
that bubble,
sanguine to the surface,
and turning to black,
they rest.

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