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Melting, melting - only the solid
Weight of a pen in my hand
Keeps me anchored

In your sea of lies -
22 thousand feet up, and
It's still the same:

The void of me
Draws you in
On the cold tide

Trained to slash the eyes
You'd rather have a machete
Than a carving knife.

Can I trap you in aveil of hair:
Smother you,
Castrate you with the tangled

Of my desire?
Kamikaze man - you kill me.



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