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- UN TITLED
She was the knife in the
hands of Jack the Ripper
in a heavy fog bank
in a back alley in old London town
slicing dicing her way through the
canvas of my heart
She was the pearl handled gun
in the hand of Dillinger
that begged to be fired
but never had the chance
the night he was gunned down
in a hail of bullets
She was a keg of gun powder
waiting to be ignited
betrayed by a wet fuse the
night I woke naked and vulnerable
feeling like a voyeur walking in
on two strangers making love
my thoughts a mosaic tattoo
on public display
- These wounded words that drip blood
Lying still as a beached shipwreck
In the bone yard of a stranger's dreams
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