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Some new, some newer.
thewiZardofOdd
the_proprietor
My neocortex has dismissed it's thumbs
I had to adjust my esophagus to swallow your sword
It had a sharp tip but it's edges were dull
You're a rare bird with scissor-fangs
I'm a fake bird with real wings
Cut them off before I fly high
Or I'll take you to the place where even Heartless Angels die
I'll make you dig our grave
I'll let you be on bottom
R.I.P to the Miserably Misbehaved
We'll grow again in autumn..
The end of consciousness has now begun ~odd


Fornicatress:

The unexpected expressiveness of the perfect "O" traced by her lips,
so dead and frozen they do stay,
but there's nothing mOre beautiful than a winter grave
I opened my red to the poisonous purple infector
She made it a grave she liked to call "hOme"
Thus turning on the lights in my attic prOjectOr
My black gave birth to the green I have become
A little hint Of sOmething mOre, a little less of having none
This is the LAST time, Just as the last time...

I'm not trying to rewind
I'm not trying to fast forward through time
I'm simply trying to enjoy mine
as it is
and do something beneficial for those i choose to enjoy it with
I don't need to be reminded of past disasters
They're not worth the time to hold a place in my present or future endeavors
There's nOe travesties left in my life
There's only My tragically beautiful wife
Slowly she's pulling the knives out of my spine
As she puts me back together inside of my mind
The knives always held me together
but now without them i seem to be standing better than ever
So my Oddesss and I pick up the knives
to head out on a hunt for those who stabbed me while i was blind
and when we're dOne with them we'll give them all new names
Like "John Doe", "Baby Doe", "Play Doe", and "Jane"...
No-one will care when we're burning their remains
No-one will ever think of them again
And as the sun sets and the day comes to an end
Together we walk out into the moonlight
Bloody hand in bloody hand... ~odd

Poisson:(pronounced poy-san)

After the fall
I landed on the edge of a cliff
The 12th of 12 cliffs
We call them "The finger-tips of the six-fingered son"
I immediately tear off my broken wings
I tossed them off the cliff and watched them flutter down into oblivion like falling leaves
I'm in a new world now
Better than the old and much more cold
In this world I'm to find the place of lost precision
Bring it back to light and embrace a life with my beautiful poisonous wife
But her sky is so far away
Will I make it in time before her heart
to freezes in place..? ~Odd

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