Friday, May 02, 2008

Sculpturing ice...

Here I am, setting alight a dark room where I play
A match ensconced between my fingers is here to stay
Icy crimes stare at me, repugnance in their eyes
I was just being myself, my naïve innocence cries

A table sits, in the center of the room
She sits on it, hallucinating amongst the fume
She has the cigarette she stole from the ‘liar’
She can’t find the light so I set myself on fire

I see her curl like the smoke, my breath tastes her
She tastes like early rain, she douses my slur
I could grab her at this moment, but I stare
She wants me to chisel her to memory, I dare

The blue flames, they dance to her travesty
She ain’t blaming me for lack of modesty
I am her potter, she relishes the my flames
I am telling her this won’t qualify for winter games

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