Game

 

I want to rip skin like dogs do when they play, let me bite you.
Skulls are hair and seam-stitched bones; (voodoo) charmed wind chimes.

I watched as the moon sliced sideways through a blizzard in the mountain pass.
Wolves are born restless, with wild blood and purpose.

I want to be consumed, to consume, like ocean waves, like febrile flame.
Stars radiating hot flash nirvana, a boundless, jack rabbit soul.

I am a gypsy, I cannot get lost.
The skies inhalant, vaporous, wide — there is desire in the endless.

I am drawn to the artist in his loneliness, I am drawn to the Devil’s best friend.
Beneath the twilight void — expanding, old tune playing; alea iacta est.

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  1. #1 by Ms. Smart on January 31, 2010 - 12:02 am

    I love this!

    • #2 by La La on January 31, 2010 - 12:48 am

      Thank-you, Ms.Smart! I am having a lot of fun and many breakthroughs working with traditional poetic forms. It is challenging and rewarding. Inspiration is everywhere! XoxO

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