the blood calls
for violence
automatons
blessedly couth
passion’s deserts languish
with single purposes
ostentatious suffocation
the quailing blemish
son do you hear
my servants
and yours
eaten with ancient pleasure
enjoy sweet jam of veins
watch skin mauve to pale blue
and the key thing i impart to you
decadent and delicate
the peril
and futility of life
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