I realized as I woke up in solitary
Thorazine is a gift for the gods
And I have squandereed it all in a white room
The temperature is alive
Dead air conditioning has hit 99
The sweat from your thighs tastes like honey
In the anarchy that ensues
Kiss me in these moments of sweet insanity
As our bodies touch and grind
And we look into the joy of life and knowledge of Death
Swirling in our eyes
I whisper I love you in your flirtatious ear
And you bare your breasts in full shock parade flesh
And respond
They are all out of apples In the asylum.
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