The rhyme
is not a reason
for the treason
I commit against the sanguine belief
it will all be alright
It won't be alright
I can sit here and carve lies
into this flesh metaphor
all day long
But,
In the end
when all is said and done and turned to ashes
I will swallow my own ashes
and those ashes will tingle
tickle and giggle as they poison my flesh
The flesh is the fed belly of the beast
we call "opulence"














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