Prowl RhythmA Poem by Connor
Curling dendrites and twisting nerves,
Synapses pulsing to a primitive rhythm To touch the true essence of living, to fulfill the insatiable urge. Look away, the mental purge, Dove right in to the storm surge, Intoxicated chemical receptors, Itching to grow sicker.
© 2010 Connor |
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Added on November 15, 2010 Last Updated on November 15, 2010 |

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