Exposure I was Dracula's dream child, carrying on a diabolical dynasty Everyday I'd walk alone throughout fictitious, fantasy worlds Like Transylvania equipped with a no trespassing sign And harden the warm-blooded hearts of humans with my Treasure chest of ice cubes thriving in a tundra of darkness. Though because of your perceptive perspective you knew That exposure would disturb an already delicate equlibrium and Like the negatives of your captured contrasts in compositions and snapshots I'd be scorched by rays of sunshine just like my sentences which Tried to slice your soul but had still failed to stifle your recurring sentiments. You noted that nonchalance didn't hide my seemingly stark nakedness Saying I should stitch up my ribcage full of rage which had contributed To the wreckage of the world and the decay of the universe I didn't know you were my mysterious martyr masquerading as a photographer Who succeeded in dodging daggers and delivering me from destruction. I read a book of self-revelation that night under a kerosene lamp and Saturated my eyesight at dawn by staring at the skyline full of Hallucinatory images like a virtual kaleidoscope of color. For the first time I didn't shield myself away from shifts in polar light Which filtered through and resurrected the splintered fragments of my form and core. I should have used the magnified map of your memory of me and Travelled tomorrow's trail like hikers heading home long before.Birth sign: Not entered
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