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Crimson Code. 

Slicing
into it like one might cut
through the tape

binding the cardboard package
just delivered
with my sharpest blade.

Letters spill
in crimson. 

Silent, fluid screams
through projections, flashbacks
and vivid fucking dreams.

Mouth agape,
hungry, enduring scream.  

Pours all her blood
into me, right across
the perky, puckered, eager skin
of my soul’s tongue.

Given a gift.
Tastes of honey.

Buzzing to unforeseen,
foreign heights. 
Are you the queen of bees
behind this spinning buzz
of mine, cause
of all this static in my mind?

Are you behind this constant
drone, persistent and unrelenting
hum that has been slowly
but surely, patiently,
intensely
 
and unerringly
driving
me fucking insane?

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