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What in the whatment? A season 7 Spike poem

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  • What in the whatment? A season 7 Spike poem

    I lost my mind a while ago
    I left it behind in a cave
    No room for a mind in me
    Too full, thanks
    Stuffed with a mess of prey
    And what I couldn't eat is
    Splattered on my clean denim thighs
    Blood on my nice white chest
    Where the soul nestles
    New as baby mice
    Already crushed
    Poor little sods
    By the cackling parade
    Of ghosts, heavy staring eyes
    Why are dead eyes so wide?
    Why do dead hands hold so hard?
    Such stiff thick fingers.

    And the talk ? I'm at the water cooler
    With all the best corpses
    They whisper about the parties I threw
    The bodies I broke
    The monster I was
    Round and round the conversation goes
    Where it stops, nobody knows
    I'm at the fair, strapped to a wheel
    Making new slashed wounds
    Soon as the old ones heal

    -- Robofrakkinawesome BANNER BY FRANCY --