bits of bitter tears and pheromones
shattered by broken things
called pieces of heart
and those insidiously
convincing objects called
that has none of these:
all within my mind.
The tainted vector rejected
abstract of all morrows
begging error’s atonement
and with hands that have
touched me: vacuumed
tears of crimson stars
a suicide band playing
within my hotel called
torture chamber —
it’s all a ‘something
called darkness locating
my soul’ goodnight kisses
darling/smoking like you’re
no pain — let it rain

:: 09-04-2015 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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