Going simply
Stays as bleak as laid behind -
Suffer madly, pleasure off:
Guilty wound on elder brow.
Waste your body, fill your soul,
Letting in eternal poll -
Where the custom burns as if
Hungry stomach was your chief.
What the people call 'be mine',
'Butterfly' and 'lovely rhyme' -
All to perish! All is course -
Death of mouth may not be worse.
Not eternity - but life
Every minute, every knife
Should be eaten by your eye,
If this day you break the line.
Comfort-less is more than all,
Being stranger, demon, doll -
But without word - so numb! -
Spirit's mute, but rum is rum.
Take it sudden, damn to hell -
This is how the souls smell
To the ending prompt to be
Honey, weed & tragedy.
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