Sun, 10/11/2015 - 20:49 -- awanod

As my mind spills out of my mouth,

You look at me in unimpressed silence.
I can see the heat, the storm, the violence
In your eyes.
It's not a surprise that you want more from me.
You always want more from me.
I'm still not completely sure 
What to diagnose this as:
Self-love or self destruction?
Lodged snugly in the smack-middle 
Of the right side of my brain, horns and all, 
You are my-justified-rage,
Everything I keep at bay
But secretly want to say.
I am timidly seated in the left side of my brain.
Halo in-tact.
So funny that your fiery
Personality is what gives me my wings.
So funny that I often use my halo
To strangle and silence your voice,
The coldness of my reason strapped
Across your throat, and as the smoke
Tries to escape your lips, I slide 
My halo up to pin down that 
Tongue of yours.
So funny that i sometimes wish that that 
Tongue of yours was this tongue of mine.
So funny when the dreaded
Becomes the sublime.
I slowly let you fire up my insides
at times.
I go from Heaven's Darling to
Harley Davidson in 2.5.
You give 'em an inch, they take ... 
A centimeter.
I'm glad that you know better.
But even a centimeter means that 
My mouth will almost certainly go
From 0 to 666...
I'm Catching Fire but i feel 
electrified, no use for this 
You seem Hungry to take over, this isn't a 
My mockingbird songs turn to Mockingjay rage.
This poem is about: 


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