onsdag den 6. juni 2012

Will - By Michaell Svendsen


The aching ponder of thought
slowly drawn into the abyss´
weirdly pleasant pain
Dark itch upon mine finger
blurred thought scramble
heavy, scratching eyelids
As i move through the dimensions
falling pit around my neck
stretched rope
feeling impared with all that is,
At odds, with those that are good
loose cannons throb as
shivers crawl up my spine
cracks, leaked mind
determinated loss of all 
Will
Will
Will

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