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Asylum Street

Sucking on a honey berry cough drop
her aorta artery working hard
pumping those veins full of purpose
there’s the screaming next door
she pulls the tape out
puts another layer around the wall
whatcha gonna do about living in hell?
watching these things go by
winged harpies
fire breathing crones
madmen with scalpels
and nice over coats
what’s it like inside the baker st insane asylum
mysteries unsolved
body bags and Prussian blue
flashing flesh at flash bulbs reflecting on concrete
dyed moments of identity and scrubbed reality
long living on these gnawed down bones
left overs of past lovers
they said she’d be a psycho
taking orders from animals
in the end living like a mongrel
growling at the apocalypse
exploding over mass graves
but you made her out of malice
shaped the canvas
when they strap down for electric shock
she’ll be seeing out the back of her skull
straight into your soul
her gaze turning into stone
that’s when they all see the light
at the end of her sockets

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About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

One response to “Asylum Street

  1. Emily, this poem is absolutely beautiful! Your imagery is pure perfection!

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