spider hacksaw eats & is eaten

it’s so intoxicating the things you’re saying about the way the world works, but i can’t seem to separate the right words from the verbal left hooks, or your true intentions beneath those good looks, it’s a terrible crime how the mind lurks, creeping around the corners of some reception, painting it all with a sublime affection, when it’s all just spoken errors and fun house mirrors, feigning perfection, i can ignore it for the time being, pretending to calculate your meaning, pretending your attention is more than scheming, but i can only hide the truth for a little while, there’s something sinister in your style, a neatly buttoned and laced beguile, the scent of your cologne is called Murder Trial, after all, there’s an art of deception behind your smile, but i can’t seem to turn down the dial to take a call, before I fall, you drink and smoke and tell charming, somewhat alarming jokes, about your past, now we can goof around and laugh, wile away the hours, intimate and vast, but in the end every blue sky dies, and to ignore it forever would be unwise, the art of deception behind your eyes, you wear those sharp silver ties, that look like knives, i should have guessed by the blood red vest, and the pitch black heart as your jacket crest, but i can’t resist the temptation, i could never say no to a moment of bliss, life all comes down to the last few seconds, and in the end it’s always this, i fall victim to your sweet gift, a fool for your kiss. i can’t resist the hint of love in my pool of blood, nor the subtle scent of a Murder Trial, so elegantly expressed by the way you’ve dressed, in Sinister Style.

This entry was posted on March 25, 2012 at 8:39 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.