Slowly like the movement of a a black widow a quick pain and slow death. Almost methodicaly I raise my arm in anticipation of a heavenly feeling. Embraced by public as death and like eve to the apple its orgasmic.
A feeling i'd spend my whole life chasing a never ending rig, Like an echo ringing untill it becomes timeless.
In a moment a strike arises giving a brillance thats cuts threw the black cloud leaving the sent of sulpher, and the devils advocate. I draw deeply as the venum reaches my sole and my body relaxes .
A cigerette My Path Of destruction
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A cigerette
- mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
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I heard you should lay off the white lines. That is until I come home for Christmas. Everyone loves snow in December.