Brad Lavoe

never Never Land!






The knife glitters in
fan
Sweeps
Blood streams between the lines
Eyes daggered toward that other exsistence
Glimmer of life
  in the dead...
A Ghost has walkeld over
  there
  Corpses!
fumes the night in steam I breathe
lightly trailing up
  From Graves
Patted from cold shovel
diamonds dug in gleam!
I still...
Watching there lips

  To die!

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