[jurialmunkey]

- Ataraxia, I wish it was.

She verges on pinnacle point;
Broken, and all I can think about is
Old vampire postulations.

Self-important palpitations.
No, I'm here for her refined lips
tremble, shrieking cacophony.

A pupate red liquid gravity black well.
Cut the tails off the dogs; don't look pretty.
A perfect fairytale contorts aesthetics.
Brings us down upon our knees now.

So soften sharp hearts,
When will they stop beating
Violet violence parts
And we can stop feeding
From a past respite-silence
with our love
From a past despite violence
with-out love

She verges on pinnacle point;
Salt stings against old lacerations,
Fluttering teardrop euphony.

Flatline swing set static breaks-up.
Shadows dance in-verse with our virus
Ataraxia, I wish it was.

This is a hopeless pop love-song record.
Crushes all the kittens; into boxes.
A perfect fairytale contorts aesthetics.
Only dead fish swim with the current.

...