Mar 02 2008, 1:03 pm / Angry
deep within the mossy woods long ages gone to misty rot there sits an age old suplecre whose word tho dreary shant be forgot i stand here in this place of mornfull woe where spirits sleep an unrestfull sleep and sane men dare not go i go there in the evenings when the yellow sun go,s down to expiate a demon a s evil thoughts inside my head abound i am home in my screaming place where blood drips on the walls amid tortuous black depression i run screaming thru the cracked and moldy halls alone alone amongst all the world in my prison of the tortured mind open me up and look at me but you may not like what you will find the agate marble mauseleum where ruth rests her pretty head makes a most proper old museum for the bones of the newly dead down the corridors of my mind i wander scenes from a life misused a child i see lies bent and weeping so battered and abused in dreams of sorrow i run screaming thru the hallways of my mind unswept to the precipice i walk unheeding i hesitate but a moment then i leapt across a bed in a chaep hotel my mind lay seeping down red scarlet ribbons amid a cascade of flowing blood i lay begging to be forgiven red concave lines they cover my chest my mind is flooded in rivers red my passion to satiate a grande guignole is played out tonight in vignettes written in my mind come nearer now my dear ones as my sanity unwinds
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