Foreign Deliverance In Proper Sync

playing in the fizzing liquids in the streets,
bottled tanks blasting open, spilling contents,
the streets lamp post lights glowing,
eager to dissolve the deceased below,
the lively curious one in the window,
covering cold paintings,
folding tarps over them, till awakenings,
deluding my followup,
dont want any stalking psychotic chums,
its a cold night, my heart beats.
my heart streams, its cold inside.
its warm and beautiful its a fright.
a steeping cup of tear insight,
drinking under the moonlight,
its lit in bulb tension,
explosion, confusion, repentance..
fiddling with sticks in another disturbance,
tuxedo suits with stains,
properly fitted, yet contaminated.
proportions of the soup - waste -
lie in gutters, its hazy maze,
its folding its cards, the deck of the ship ensnared,
wood splinters, ice chilling,
focus draining, fortune waning,
happiness degrading,
but in the end, swaying.
love me and hate me,
she never never hate me....never never...