Thursday, 21 April 2011

toy soldier

The silk fist that punches you in for your first kiss,
as you enlist and are scanned in like a crimson barcode,
too drunk to notice the elixir of youth erupting from your veins.

The rage red lips that pepper you with sweet spit,
as you subdue yourself, ready yourself, submit and recline,
too dumb to notice you have nothing of yourself left but time.

The tissue paper skin that rips in the hot din,
as you pay the greatest price of false freedom,
too dismal to notice that divine is no kingdom,
there is no heaven and no glory.

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