What do butchers look like?
Pink, Purple or White.
Away from the crowds
alone on street
Crawling on the skin
felt underneath
Do they rise in fear
of hidden defeats?
A broken consort
A fickle retreat
Vicious laughter of
duelling tweaks
bottomless doubts
of lingering misery
are akin to reason
on fateful dawns
A mistress lost
to a pawn.
A slaughter that shreds
yet redeems,
History of shards
greedliy breeds;
Blood crafted on
silent screams
is paled
to conceit.


(made with the special help of someone whom i don't want to name for the fear of sending him straight to heaven due to unlimited happiness n recognition after many stupid years of toiling in all the wrong industries.me thinks he should have his own blog.)