Counterbalancing the replica of a cusp, 

Down hallways incubating the magical scent 

Reminding us that a twin is the best kind of lie

And so the perfect tragedy,


We collapse into the memory of ourselves,

Before demons were forgiven through sacrifice,

Before the necrophiliac found himself alone 

Recollecting through alignment,


Using jesters to absorb secret ridicule 

Preserving the singular path to ecstacy 

Where hearts become stones at the sight of an equation, 

It's only us who permit life. 


The splendid lover who is neither lion, or virgin.


  • Author: lucaso (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 31st, 2018 18:43
  • Comment from author about the poem: This is an old people written the usual way, instinctively and without deafting, but I believe that keeps a certain atmosphere to it, whether it's a shit atmsophere or not
  • Category: Love
  • Views: 14
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