My Habitation

Setting mood, like sex, it throws us down aloof.
The kettle lover is burning for the morning smile.
Paint and guitars are everything to semi-monks.
Stay away from drugs if you have a child.

To sure the sights on fought soil for seasoned comings,
we raise our bloody hands as evil dies away.
Bombing people has no reason if it is just for cradles.
Sleeping deaths are forced for some moon in futures.

My ego says to you that I am a hero.
You laugh as you know I am weaker than that.
I cannot even last a day without habits.
When a scientologist told of nuns were raped.

 

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Author: leeethomas

Visual Artist, musician and writer from Australia. Interested in Love and the Mind.

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