Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Hydra (feat. Kat & Solo)

Wielding triple-folded sentences
rendering innocent whetstones

militias metal mandibles
maim moist pink petals
that hang perfectly over
the horizon,

cleaving but the goal
still tauntingly out of reach,
syllables can slash but can’t
breach realities,

now through sun-soaked
intellect rip portals to
achieve our task.

Raping lathered beads of sweat,
Neither vice nor sin can harm it
Figure out a way to disintergrate
and meet me post-haste

in the wasteland between form
and cute sheen,
I want to get up in the guts
of visceral grammar cuts
commas are the blood,
periods under the fingertips
scraping and gouging open
the paragraphed landscape,
bringing about the letterocalypse.

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