Sorry, I was just lubricating the gyrosprocket (mcshutup) wrote in badpoetryinc,
Sorry, I was just lubricating the gyrosprocket
mcshutup
badpoetryinc

icicle vines

I came here to die but now I’m suddenly afraid
In the refrigerated atmosphere, the arctic shade
Unreciprocated passions form in irrational spheres
The grass will grow but still it’s uninhabitable here
The icicle vines sent a slow chill up my spine
Like fingernails playing spiders on my mind
Just cooling out like birds on a telephone line
The white sculptures shine they’re my lifeline

In the wintertime when the weather is cold
I can breathe right out and see my soul
See it floating
See it floating in the air
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