Monday, January 9, 2012


Red no more describes
The blood of a man
Than orange can define
The shades of a sunset.

Skin ripped open
Has a garish
Delight that excites
The lethal spirit.

But the real impact
Goes to the heart;
Not to the fickle senses,
And so saps the climax.

Yet the dead are gone
And the author has won,
But souls live on
In the mind of the knife.

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