dirty dreaming





so he asked me

to dream a dream,

and so i said

that I would

only ever dream,

of drifting

into a life where

poetic allure lives on the heart,

and in the eyes

of all people,

and written words

are only etched 

on the carcasses

of those who sell

their soul,

and the souls of


for their own profit.


then, scars would at least 

hold the 

weight of their worth, 

and words 

could lie upon the 

backs of 

the beasts

they were created for.





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