Keep Art Alive :: Art by Aaron Nagel

Your six string guitar is a mess,
silver bullets hanging off your dress.”

Who shot first?
by me

Words that pierce the skin,
points dipped in her sticky sweetness,
tastes like honey as it kills you quick,
you don’t even feel it as she takes you down.

Lipstick rings around not just your collar,
she leaves red marks as memory,
you walk away bleeding her name.

Voices that open the flesh,
fingertips chilled in his careless dismay,
he spits out vile as he makes you come,
you promise forever as he curses your name.

Bruises mark a map down your body,
he leaves cruel remarks as memory,
you walk around believing his name.

Who shot the poison arrow?

Poison Arrow (live) :: Sonic Youth

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