The government and Moon's last battle

The oil swells up in your lungs and you remember the faint taste of metal. You dance to forget the burning. Falling birds like the sun in my dreams breathes me fast like a drive that beats me into submission-metaphorically speaking-the moon rises in the east and winks. What is it like to have a serpent round your neck, ready to squeeze it out of you, drain you dry if necessary. The government will find a way to scare you.

Yet sometimes, what scares me more is what I see in you, writhing looking glass monster. What if the rabbit hole leaves you lost forever, never to come back to the surface, held by chains. Maybe some with their heads floating in the river want things to change. The violence makes me walking nauseous, constant ripple of sensations-You wake from a nightmare yet still the world of the real is just another dream.

What if Mary came to you, heavy angel, and asks to be released from the memories of crosses in the rain, could you look her in the face and say no? With pain comes openness to ecstasy and true darkness horrors in the shadows.

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