Scandal of health

The sun's light bled into my head-

invigorating my breath. health.

I brushed my hair of sin- silk.

Coke to most. dripped, gripped onto the thought.

Shattered it to the tree of hope.

Roots- not squashed, glossed by boots.

The fools.

-

So I flipped out the patient book.

This one's fatal. lost its soul(foul).

So slit out the grave.

Hope you rest in hell.

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Uncomfortable sheets in these hospital beds-

or maybe it's the stupid feds. Crimes can't be defined.

Not as long as the hands lost the body (dismantled thoughts).

Fighting is great, part of fate (hate)- only way to stop the crimes,

is resting in numbers and pictures- where nothing ever made sense,

or so the stairway said, feeding you with the course reproof.

-

So things finally fell (nothing to do with me) out.

Things are finally over.

Scattered to the windy breath (of the newspapers light), right.

-

That is, till the next huge bite- of that apple that never dies.

-

Slice.