Poselurkrun

or, Dating When You’re Trve

Between black and Caspian, thigh and terrified,
The bestial stir in a sermon prepared to reach high,
To crush mighty, prepare psychic youth for its end by
Devising a way to stay trve, to destroy you – to date only
Those born alike you, under the sign of dark mark, smart
Artist, troubled and tortured disaster at hands of a friend,
An intention; knotwork of an artificial rectifician, detrimental
In the way it carries flesh, parts the error from aggression, flat-
Tens distinction to a null. A shirt is all you see when you see me
But eventually this too will wear, this temple will crumble; all of
Us will fall to their knees, succumb to the visions of nameless evan
Gelism. Preference takes little to no precedence – what matters is
The reference, cymb and symbol elegance of This I shall use to summon
Him; regardless of right he will come. Dating when you’re through is
Wasteful if you keep running to corpses for new Life, hiding in the
Rushes for a pulse you’re not supposed to, a pose that’s not opposed
To be the lurk and run. In the wound, the question is answered;
In you, the ill symptom lives on. Passion is an instrument that
Doesn’t play off-key; the two of us can play it independently.
As the hopeless soul keeps mating ever white line we keep
Crossing is the rumbinger of death, the virtue of false
Protest. For as long as we can stand we’ll deny it,
Scream abiit, non obiit – defend what we know
Is not right. Love isn’t trve but just might,
Just strength is overcoming.

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