jupitersterrain four

a case of exposed
innards 

hacking 
down the layers 
of me the weeds of card
punching his way through ... 
tears at surplus packaging gack 

smoking the smell of burning flesh  
drop of black oil slowly hanging 
something so pure and uncut

the burn of concentrated 

heart hands of spirit 

touch the pain

torching it

down  

like 
branded
when you touch 
me a four degree burn
that stamps the shape of 
your hands in charcoal embers
the melting metal running in my vein




00.00. 20.09.12. © Lizarikk , 20.09.12.,  9.13am