a warning to a waning cerebellum

some days he feels burdened
other days he knows he’s written these words before
these words that are often whispered

to the sound of chirping bullets muzzled upon a flask
an entity so profound- it makes all fall silent in envy
tiny bubbles of love
this tiny affectionate sound
of neurons colliding
life coinciding
with their maker

now dead

this he and his great misery
like a spine ripped out of her supple neck by a hunter from a lesser sect
appearances are what you make of it

so beware of the waning cerebellum in which no knowledge seeps
because she’s simply a witch and her own maker
a petty fool for destiny
who’ll fall in love with the letter V

the dead talk such tales but do not pity me-
good sir
I am of rotting flesh
the happiness in this life after death

Now- may I ask
who are you?

a warning to a waning cerebellum

blarbdenarp

Joined September 2011

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